


RTW 2020 Prompts

by Apparentlynotreallyfinnish



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Angst, M/M, Rhink Three Ways, Tags on chapter notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 33,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22257370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apparentlynotreallyfinnish/pseuds/Apparentlynotreallyfinnish
Summary: All of the prompts fromRhink Three Wayson Tumblr as written by Appa (@apparentlynotreallyfinnish).Prompts will be chapter titles.
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 35
Kudos: 93
Collections: Rhink Three Ways





	1. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: angst, alcohol, cheating

_“Always wanting you, but never having you_

_Makes it hard to face tomorrow_

_'Cause I know I'll wake up wanting you again_

_Always loving you, but never touching you_

_Sometimes hurts me almost more than I can stand.”_

Rhett’s voice cracks, and his hand drops away from the strings, drawing out a discordant screech as it falls. Rhett cringes at the sound and reaches for the black-labeled bottle on the table in front of him. He leans over his guitar to screw the cap open. It drops from his trembling hands and rolls under the couch. Rhett barely notices—he’s busy chugging the burning liquid down his throat. The sting is good. Makes him feel more centered. Makes the hurt in his heart dull a bit.

Someone shrieks of laughter outside, and there’s a loud boom followed by a few small whizzes. The music has stopped. It must be close to midnight.

The room sways around Rhett. He closes his eyes and hums the lyrics under his breath.

“ _Always loving you..._ ”

He smiles and swings the bottle in rhythm with his tilting world. The liquor sloshes inside, spilling on his jeans. Rhett opens his eyes and stares at the wet spot expanding on the fabric—it looks like a map of a fantasy continent.

The ache in his chest swells again, and he takes another swig.

“Having a private party?”

Rhett lifts his head, and Link’s face swims into focus. He’s leaning against the door frame, smirking with his arms crossed over his chest.

“The company’s good,” Rhett slurs and lifts the bottle towards Link before tipping his head back and taking an overflowing mouthful. He wipes away the dribble, sloshing more whiskey on himself.

“Your company’s drunk,” Link claims, making Rhett shake his head. Rhett closes one eye and lifts his index finger while still holding onto the neck of the bottle with the rest. His hand swings as he tries to point to Link.

“Lies,” he says, turning the finger towards himself. He lifts his chin and says as clear as he can: “Tipsy. Not drunk.”

Link’s shaking his head. His sigh is half-amused, half-annoyed. He walks up to Rhett and grabs the bottle. Rhett grumbles and curses, trying to get it back. Link’s faster, and the bottle disappears into a cabinet. Rhett moans and looks at Link with pleading eyes.

“Your tipsy ass has had enough. Let’s go splash some cold water on your face, and then we gotta find the girls. It’s almost midnight,” Link says, pulling Rhett up. There’s not enough space between the table and the couch, and they end up chest to chest.

“Midnight,” Rhett says, gears slowly turning in his head. “Are we doing a countdown? Three-Two-One? Time for a kiss.”

And before he can stop himself he’s ducking down and pressing his lips on Link’s.

Time stops.

Link’s lips part ever so slightly, and Rhett feels him sigh, feels him press closer, feels a ghost of a touch on his lower back.

But then Link pulls away. He’s apologizing, minimizing, blaming Rhett’s drunkenness. And Rhett’s nodding along, agreeing and smiling a lopsided grin that cuts deep into his core and leaves a festering wound there.

“Go clean up,” Link orders, looking past Rhett with wide eyes as he escapes the room. Rhett’s left alone. Now it’s him swaying—not the room. The sob starts somewhere deep in his belly and takes a while to rip its way out. Rhett’s back on the couch, curling around the gaping hole in his chest.

A mistake.

A grievous mistake. He’d already decided. He’d already come to terms with the fact that what he wanted from Link would never happen. He’d already moved on. Hadn’t he?

There are more sounds from outside, cheers, and fireworks going off with increasing intervals. It must be almost time.

Rhett gets up, wipes his face, and takes a deep breath. He stalks into the kitchen. The house has turned into a ghost town—the space that was only moments ago filled with laughter and bodies pressed together is now empty. The party has moved outside and left behind a trail of red solo cups, trodden-on chips, and pieces of colorful streamer littering the floors. It’s fitting—Rhett muses as he’s looking for a clean glass—that the void inside him has manifested outside of him as well.

He drinks a big glass of water, straightens his back, plasters a smile onto his face, and steps out of the patio door. In the sea of faces, only one matters. Link’s on the far end of the yard, arms wrapped around a tiny waist, face buried in the crook of a slender neck. Rhett watches them. He lets the image burn into his mind. Tries to tape it over what just happened.

A small hand takes his and tugs.

“Hey, babe. You almost missed it.”

Rhett smiles at her. She’s gorgeous. She’s smart and caring, and funny. She’s amazing in every way possible.

But she’s not _him_.

“Are you gonna make any resolutions?” she asks, head tilted to the side, smiling teasingly.

“One.”

“Oh?”

_Never again. His lips will never again touch mine._

“Exercise more. Gotta get fit before the wedding,” he says, winking. Her laughter is a salve he never knew existed. He can do this. He can forget. He can be happy. With her.

There’s a countdown. There’s a kiss. There are more cheers and fireworks.

There are conversations and music and more alcohol, and hours later, Rhett finds himself in a dark utility room, pressing a lithe body against the wall, whispering his want into reality, kissing heated skin, and plumped lips.

_Has anyone ever broken their resolution this fast? Must be a record._


	2. "Stay here tonight"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: angst, college-aged!rhink, fighting

_Slovakia._

Link’s stomach twists into a knot. He’s not sure if he’s ever even heard of Slovakia before. Sounds made up. Sounds like a make-belief country from a movie. He should go get Mama’s big book of maps and find it. See it with his own eyes. Maybe that would help him believe Rhett’s actually going.

Rhett’s going alone and leaving Link—for the _whole_ summer.

Knuckles rapping on Link’s window startle him. He’d been lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling with sleepless eyes. Link gets up and stalks to the window. It’s dark outside, but his bedside lamp is bright enough to reveal a dirty blond head of hair and green eyes pleading for entrance. Link sighs and opens the window.

“Hey,” Rhett says quietly, an apology disguised as a greeting.

“It’s late,” Link says and it comes out as an accusation.

“I can’t just come and see my best friend?” Rhett tries to joke and Link rolls his eyes and huffs. His arms are crossed over his chest. Rhett’s smiling a little, doing that thing he does with his eyes that always makes Link melt and follow him to the ends of the earth. He feels himself softening again and immediately gets angry at himself.

“No.”

“No?”

“No, you can’t just come see me. We’re fighting,” Link snaps. He feels stronger for saying it. He’s got agency. He’s not giving up this time.

“Are we seriously doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“I’m _leaving_ tomorrow.”

“I am more than aware of that,” Link huffs. Rhett does the thing again—pleads with a soft gaze.

“Can I come in? Please, Link. Let’s talk this out. You don’t want this. You don’t want me leaving like this.”

_Don’t want you leaving at all..._

Link shakes the thought away. He wants to say no. Wants to stand his ground and make Rhett turn around and go home. Wants to see the look on Rhett’s face when, for once, he doesn’t give in. But it’s just a wish, he knows he won’t. He couldn’t.

“Fine. Come in.”

A smile spreads across Rhett’s face. Link steps out of the way and watches Rhett do a contortionist act as he folds his limbs to fit through the window. His foot catches on the frame and he goes down hard.

“Dang it!”

Link can’t help but smile. Rhett is sprawled on his floor, hair that’s grown too long whipped over his eyes.

“Has the window gotten smaller? I swear this was easier before,” Rhett huffs and scrambles up.

“Could’ve just used the front door. Mama’s at work, you know?”

“Oh,” Rhett says, annoyed and embarrassed at once. Link sees the battle on his face. He wants to snap at Link for not telling, but he knows he’s already in enough trouble. Rhett opts for flashing a smile and sitting on the edge of Link’s bed. He pats the covers next to him.

“C’mere.”

“I’m good here, thanks,” Link answers, firmly planted on his chosen spot, leaning against his desk—as far away from Rhett as he can be. Rhett goes to plead, his mouth opens to do it, but something on Link’s face stops him. His lips press together and he nods.

Neither speaks for a moment. Link listens to the crickets chirp outside. It’s almost stifling hot. He moves to close the window as if that could keep the humidity out.

“I’m sorry,” Rhett says. Link turns to look at him, surprised that he’s actually uttered the words.

“Yeah?” he confirms.

“Yeah. Shoulda told you. Earlier.”

“You’re damn right, you should’ve.”

“I’m sorry, Link. I—” Rhett’s gaze falls to the floor and he rubs his neck. “I don’t know why I didn’t.”

“I know.”

“You do?” Rhett asks, sounding amused. Link takes a deep breath.

“I do.” He says it with conviction, almost a growl. He hates the smirk on Rhett’s face. Hates that it makes him wanna push Rhett on the bed and climb on top of him and kiss it right off his lips.

“Well, do tell then. Because I’m not sure myself.”

“Because you’re a coward.”

Rhett scowls at him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. A dang coward. And you know it too. Don’t try and tell me otherwise.”

Rhett’s eyebrows thread together and his smirk is gone, replaced by a tight, angry line.

“I’m not.”

“You are too!” Link’s voice is rising as the beat of his heart quickens. He’s pushed himself away from the desk, towards Rhett, hands bunched into trembling fists.

Rhett’s gotten up too. He towers over Link, always using those extra inches to his advantage. His eyes blaze and his fingers are curling tighter.

They’re about to fight—or kiss. And Link’s not sure what he’s more afraid of.

“A fucking coward,” he hisses. Rhett flinches at the curse.

“You kiss your Mama with that mouth?” Rhett taunts and something inside Link’s chest unhinges at the word ‘kiss’.

“Fuck you,” Link curses again, stepping forwards. He hates that his voice wavers, hates that little tremble that exposes him.

“You wish,” Rhett snaps and then his eyes go wide, his mouth opens as if he’s trying suck back in the words that he’s spilled in the heat of the moment. Link’s arms fall limp and he fights the sob that’s nestled somewhere under his ribs.

“I do,” he says quietly. “And that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“ _Link_ ,” Rhett whispers, stepping forwards. There are those eyes again, pleading for Link to stop this nonsense. Link pushes the hurt down, makes a home for it somewhere in the back of his mind—it’ll be there to embrace him after the plane’s over the ocean—and goes for broke.

Link closes the distance between them, cradles Rhett’s face, slowly rubs his thumb across his bottom lip, marveling at the softness of it, at the way Rhett’s lips part from his touch. Rhett’s gaze has gone soft—a new kind of soft. Link can only hope for the best when he whispers.

“Stay here tonight.”


	3. Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Pirates AU, starvation

Lincoln’s lying on the deck, staring up at the limply hanging sails. He remembers them being blindingly white when they left Sanlúcar almost two months ago. The white is somehow duller now and the bold red cross painted on the largest sail has turned rusty brown. The ship sways and sun peeks from behind the heavy fabric. Lincoln slowly blinks his eyes closed, too listless to lift his hand to shield himself from the glare.

It’s too hot to be up here. Lincoln knows he shouldn’t have come. He should be below deck like everyone else, in the shadows, reserving his strength and avoiding the sweltering heat. As if it could be avoided. It’s hot inside, too. And smelly and noisy. Lincoln almost laughs. No, that’s not right. It’s not noisy anymore. It hasn’t been for days.

A few weeks ago you could barely hear yourself think at nights; there was rambunctious laughter and off-keyed singing, fights and elation, deep conversations and shouting. There was _life_. Now the air is thick with silence. Hushed conversations start, only to peter out almost immediately. Occasionally someone groans or whimpers. There isn’t even crying anymore. No one has enough energy, or fluids, to actually cry.

The air outside is not moving either. It just envelops the ship, hanging around them like a blanket of impending doom. Lincoln drags it in his lungs, fills them to the brim and breathes out. The air feels heavy like it doesn’t want to move. Or maybe it’s just him feeling heavy.

Lincoln opens his eyes again and stares at the sails, wishing them to puff taut—wishing for a miracle.

But there are no miracles today and eventually, Lincoln drags himself up and descends below deck. The air immediately sours. The smell of thirty slowly dying men in tight quarters is not pleasant after the relative freshness of the outside.

Lincoln walks past the stairs that go down to the crew’s sleeping deck and instead, continues to the end of the narrow hall and knocks lightly on the door at the end. His stomach turns as he waits. He’s afraid of what he’ll find inside.

It takes a while for the captain to open the cabin door. When he does, he’s leaning against the wall, trying to look like it’s a choice rather than a necessity. Lincoln studies the impossibly tall man in front of him. He does this every day, looks at the man he loves and hopes to see enough life left in him to make it to land. The captain’s beard is overgrown and his hair is falling on his forehead in wild curls. He’s always been thin but now he’s gaunt. Even the twinkle in his eyes is dimmed. Lincoln’s heart aches.

“Deckhand Neal,” the captain greets him—a bit of that familiar shine returning to his eyes—and opens the door wider. “Please come in.”

“How are you?” Lincoln asks when the door is firmly closed behind them. The captain smiles wearily.

“Good, good.” His words are immediately proven false by the way his legs almost give in when he tries to take a step. Lincoln rushes to the captain’s side and wraps his arm around his waist. He, in turn, settles his hand over Lincoln’s shoulder and they slowly make their way to the bed.

“I’m fine,” the captain rasps as he lays down. Lincoln huffs and goes to the cabinet. He gets an empty flask and leaves the cabin, ignoring the weak words that implore him to stop.

He returns with the leather flask bulging with water, a stick of salted beef and a handful of wafers. The captain fights him for every sip and every bite but eventually, Lincoln is satisfied enough. He takes the smallest of sip himself and nibbles on a wafer before stowing them into the cabinet.

“The crew needs it more than me,” the captain says, still fighting the battle he’s already lost.

“The crew needs _you_ ,” Lincoln says. It’s the absolute truth. Without Captain McLaughlin, they wouldn’t have gotten this far. They wouldn’t have survived the storms or the outbreak of whooping cough or even the mundanity of sea travel. The crew loves him and he loves the crew. He’d do anything for them, even starve himself so they could get a morsel more each.

“We’re gonna make it,” Lincoln says, staring at the charts and maps scattered on the table. His finger follows the ship’s path drawn by the captain and the first mate.

“The wind has to pick up soon. It’s been too long. It’s not normal to be this calm, this long.”

The captain mutters an affirmative, but for the first time since the wind ceased and the ocean settled around them, he doesn’t sound like he believes it. Lincoln turns and looks at him.

“It will. I know it.”

“How?” the captain asks, sounding exhausted.

“Because I can’t lose you. Not now. Not when I’ve just found you,” Lincoln whispers, voice trembling almost as much as his hands are. The captain’s gaze whips to him and he swallows hard enough for Lincoln to see his Adam’s apple bob.

The air between them crackles and burns. Neither has ever said it out loud. Neither has admitted that the pull they feel for each other is more than something men surrounded by only other men for months on end might feel.

“C’mere,” the captain says finally, shifting on the bed, making room for another weary body. Lincoln goes to him quickly, already regretting all the nights he could’ve spent in his arms but didn’t.

That night the cabin is filled with noises once more. Sounds of desperation, love, and pleasure— _so much pleasure_ , more than Lincoln could have ever imagined. And when they finally grow tired and fall asleep in each other’s arms, they are two men who may be stranded at sea but whose hearts are no longer lost.

And the next morning, when they wake up…

_Wind._


	4. "Excuse me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: drinking alcohol, cheating implied

Link’s sitting at their kitchen table. 

Well, _his_ kitchen table, he corrects himself and shudders. Nothing in the apartment is theirs anymore, just his.

_It’s been half an hour since he left._

Link’s staring at the kitchen counter. At the empty space next to the coffeemaker.

“You don’t even use it,” _he_ ’d said, a hint of annoyance in his voice as he unplugged the toaster. Link couldn’t argue with that. He couldn’t really say that it came as a set with the coffeemaker. He couldn’t say that they shouldn’t be separated. He couldn’t say that it felt like adding insult to injury. That would’ve sounded childish. It was just a cheap toaster.

Link stares at the empty spot and feels it echoing inside himself.

_It’s been an hour since he left._

Link’s standing in front of the sink in the bathroom. Water rushes from the open tap and gushes down the drain with a familiar gurgling sound. _He_ always said they should figure out why it made that noise.

“Call someone to take a look at it,” he said repeatedly.

Link never did.

Now he watches the water spiral and disappear into the drain.

_It’s been two hours since he left._

Link’s curled up at the end of the couch. When he sat down, he instinctively reached for the snuggle blanket usually thrown over the headrest and when his hand only met the sun-warmed leather, a chill ran through him.

Instead of the blanket, he wraps his hands around his bent legs and tries not to think about who _he_ is snuggling with from now on.

It takes Link a while to notice the missing books and records. Each is a stab at an open wound.

Link closes his eyes and hugs himself tighter.

_It’s been four hours since he left._

Link’s moved to the front door. He’s sitting on the floor, back against the dark, polished wood. This is where Link saw him last.

“What’s this?” Link asked as he stepped inside. There were boxes in a precarious pile next to the door. Link instinctively straightened them out. Then he saw the suitcase, bulging at the seams.

“You weren’t supposed to come home until tomorrow,” _he_ muttered, rubbing his neck, avoiding Link’s curious gaze.

Link closes his eyes and thuds the back of his head against the door. 

The end came out of nowhere.

“There’s someone else.”

His words haunt the walls of the foyer. Link’s sure that if he opens his eyes, the words will be painted in garish red over the muted blue they chose together when they moved in.

_It’s been five hours since he left._

Link stands at the bedroom door. His hand hovers over the doorknob. It trembles. No. He trembles. Link turns, leaves the empty room behind him, grabs his jacket, wallet and keys and heads out. 

He can’t stay here. He can’t sleep in their bedroom without him. It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s the words on the walls. It’s the hollow in his chest. It’s the missing toaster.

Link escapes into the warm night of Los Angeles.

_It’s been seven hours since he left._

At midnight the bar is packed. It’s Friday after all. Link’s been nursing his third beer for the last hour and he’s thinking about leaving. Not home. The mere thought makes him nauseous. He’s trying to decide which of his friends to call. Who would be okay with an unexpected sleepover?

“Excuse me? Is this seat taken?” A voice asks next to him. Link nods, mutters a ‘no’ but doesn’t lift his gaze from the contact list of his phone. A chair scrapes against the floor and someone sits next to him.

The first thing Link notices is his hands. Link’s always had a thing for big hands. The stranger next to him has gorgeous, _big_ hands, one of which he uses to wave the bartender. Link stares at his fingers, slowly tapping against the sticky bartop as he waits for his drink.

“You want another one?” the stranger asks, pointing at Link’s almost empty bottle. Link’s gaze finally leaves the man’s hands and follows his toned, sun-kissed arms up to his face. A big beard, a partly-hidden smile, dazzling green-gray eyes and a dirty blond mess of hair. Link swallows and nods.

“Yeah.”

The smile is no longer hidden, it lights up his whole face. Link’s heart misses a beat and the noisy bar around them quietens. The bartender sets a drink in front of the stranger and Link watches his fingers wrap around the glass. His fingers are long and delicate and Link can’t help but think about them digging into his waist.

“Another one for blue eyes over here,” the stranger says to the bartender. Link blushes. Why is he blushing?

Another beer materializes in front of him and he takes a sip.

“I’m Rhett,” the stranger—no longer a stranger—says and offers his hand. Link takes it, afraid of his body betraying his thoughts. The handshake is firm and lasts a lifetime.

“Link,” he whispers when Rhett finally lets go of his hand. The warmth of him stays—it lingers in Link’s arm before climbing up and making a nest in his chest. 

They sit in silence for a while, sipping their drinks.

“This might be way too forward of me,” starts Rhett. “But you looked like you needed a friend.”

“A friend?”

“Yeah. Or more. If I’m totally honest, I was hoping for more, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

Link is hot all over. Hot and tingly and breathless.

“I don’t want to go home tonight,” he hears himself saying. Rhett nods slowly and takes a sip of his drink.

“I live right around the corner. My couch is really comfy.”

Link bites his bottom lip before asking.

“How comfy is your bed?”

Rhett’s lips quirk into a lopsided smile.

“Extremely comfy.”

That night Link falls asleep with those big hands wrapped around him.

_It’s been two hours since I found him._


	5. Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: mythical wives, polyamory

He doesn’t drink coffee anymore. It’s not good for his stomach. That’s what he’s told everyone. But it’s not entirely true. He still drinks coffee. But only on some nights. Only when he absolutely has to stay awake. When he has to use every weapon in his arsenal to keep the dreams at bay.

They started small. Once in a while, he had a dream where they sat on the office couch, side by side as usual. But what was not usual was the hand on his thigh. In the dream, it felt normal. It was expected, welcomed, soothing. After he woke up he could still feel the weight of it on his skin. After he woke up, he missed it. But the feeling was gone by the first light of morning and it was easy to brush off the dreams as just one of those things. Nothing to be concerned about.

Then the dreams changed. They were still sitting on the couch but now there were words whispered into his ear—low, breathy, dirty words. And the hand on his thigh? Let’s just say that it had moved north.

Even those dreams he was able to chase away soon after he woke up.

He never thought about them during the day.

Then they started doing the vlogs. It was something new, something exciting. They were giddy about it. About spending time just the two of them.

The dreams went on overdrive. Every time they filmed, the next night he would wake up tangled in his sheets, rock-hard and aching for the touch of the man that had been his best friend for the last thirty-five years.

Those dreams were harder to shake. Those dreams penetrated his psyche and made a home. He’d notice himself getting distracted while they were working. He got caught up watching him. Watching his hands move. Watching him bite his lip when he was concentrating. Watching his hips. God, those hips. There were too many days when he almost walked up to him and grabbed that slender waist. He could see it so clearly. How there would be a surprised gasp and then an awkward giggle. It has to be a bit, a joke, a prank, right? But then he’d get on his knees and his thumbs would dig into those hips and rub and press and his mouth...

Soon enough it all became unbearable. He told his wife one night after she woke up and found him in the kitchen drinking his second cup of coffee. She was understanding and sweet, just as he had expected. She offered her warmth and her words to make him feel better and he appreciated it. Of course, he did. But all it did was make him feel worse about the whole situation.

“It’s gonna blow over,” he promised his wife not believing a word of it but wishing nonetheless.

“I know, baby,” she said, kissed him and went back to bed. He drank a third cup of coffee and waited for the morning.

Time went on. He was managing. The nights when he barely slept seemed to be more spread out. Sometimes even a week went by without the horror of waking up crying for someone who wasn’t his wife.

Then the camping trip happened. It had been decided on months ago—before the dreams had started. He tried to get out of it but despite his best efforts, he found himself lying inside a sleeping bag, inches away from the person that haunted his dreams. He was afraid to fall asleep. He was afraid he was going to wake up moaning for him.

“You could talk to him, you know?” his wife had said before the trip. “Now would be a good opportunity.”

“I don’t want him to know!”

“It might help you, though. And he would understand.”

His wife might be right but he just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t just come out and say that he—

“Rhett?”

His name form Link’s lips made his heart jump into his throat and lodge itself there.

“Huh?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

“I talked with Jessie.”

_No. No. No. No. Oh God no._

The sound of the zipper of the sleeping bag was so loud, he wanted to cover his ears. Wanted to cover his eyes, his face, his heart. He wanted to hide his heart before it could be torn apart.

“Talked with Christy too,” Link whispered, his voice suddenly so close to Rhett’s ear. Another zipper was opened.

Rhett’s breath got caught. Hands on his body. Slipping under his t-shirt, into his hair. Heated lips pressing against his skin. A gasp—his or Link’s, he couldn’t tell.

“They say this is okay,” Link murmured into his ear before sucking the lobe into his mouth. “I’ve been waiting for years. Hoping for you to get here. To where I’ve been.”

“I want you,” Rhett didn’t say the words, they burst out of him.

“Me too, baby.”

That night, Rhett didn’t need any coffee to stay up.


	6. "Just breathe, okay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: near death by drowning

There’s a moment between breaths that can feel like a lifetime.

It can happen right before your first kiss with the love of your life. Right before your lips touch. You can feel their warm breath on your skin and hear your own heartbeat rushing in your ears. That moment changes you. Ends an old life and begins a new one.

It can happen when the person who you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with tells you they no longer want to be with you. You know it’s coming. You know it from the way they stand—a bit off-kilter, like the world’s already askew in anticipation of their words. And you still hope you are wrong, you wish the next words out of their mouth are not the gut punch you’re waiting for but something innocuous and silly.

It can also happen when you’re best friend is lying on scorching hot sand, his blonde hair colored dark by the ocean water that’s straightened his curls and brushed them flat against his scalp. His body is limp and wet, sand clinging into sun-kissed skin as a stranger pumps his chest so hard it feels violent. His eyes are closed, eyelashes wet and clumped together. He almost looks like he’s sleeping and a twisted part of your mind thinks about the photos he takes of you when you sleep. This would be the ultimate revenge. The thought passes as nausea takes its place.

You can hear the murmur of the crowd around you. They’re like carrion birds, gathering around a tragedy, waiting for juicy morsels to gather and present online as something that happened to them. A picture of _him_ lifeless and a string of hearts and crying emojis followed by a faux-heartfelt message about _this awful thing they saw at the beach today_. You want to yell at them. Yell that this is not happening to them. That it’s not their life that hangs in the balance. It’s not their loved one lying in the sand.

You don’t, though. Because you are waiting. You live in that infinite moment between breaths—between his breaths. He took his last one before he disappeared below the waves. Before the paddleboard knocked him unconscious. Before you dove in after him and dragged him onto the shore. Before a lifeguard ran to you and started chest compressions. Before you took your phone and tried to call 911 but your hands were wet and shaking too much and someone had to take over from you. It’s been a lifetime. And you’re afraid.

Another lifeguard comes in running. He takes over the chest compressions. The first one sits back on his haunches and pants. Someone offers him a bottle of water. It’s hard work to keep the dead alive enough for saving. You know that but still you want to ask them to be careful. To not hurt him so much. Because it looks like it hurts. The way his chest caves in with every compression. The way his arms move from the force of them, gathering more sand on his skin.

You take one of his hands into your own. Squeeze it between your hands and whisper.

“Just breathe, okay?”

Your voice sounds like a stranger’s. Rough and as wet as the ocean you just emerged from.

His lips are blue. You think about the fact that you never got to kiss them. You think about the regret you’ll feel. Already feel. You think about the years spent watching those lips. When they were full and pink and so alive. When he spoke and laughed and screamed and smiled. Your chest heaves. Concaves in rhythm with the compressions as if you can feel them on yourself.

“Please, Rhett, please. All you have to do is breathe.”

Someone takes a picture. The fake shutter sound makes your blood boil and your insides twist into a knot. The other lifeguard gets up and herds the crowd farther away. You are grateful. You press his hand against your chest, over your racing heart, and your forehead against his. You’re crying but the saltwater on your face masks the tears. You kiss his lifeless lips and wait. And hope. And cry.

“Please, come back to me. I need more time. _We_ need more time.”

There is a faint sound in the distance. An ambulance. Your heart jumps. You look up from him and search for the origin of the sound. Search for the people who are gonna bring him back to you. Who are gonna make him real again. Because now he looks like a puppet. A Rhett marionette. Something from a movie set. Or a dream. You hope you’re dreaming.

People running towards you. Words spoken too fast for you to grasp their meaning. A gurney that has to be carried because of the sand. An inside of a metal box on wheels. A siren that’s too loud and a drive to the hospital that’s too long. Machines making discordant music. Foreign hands on his body.

All you can do is breathe. In and out and in and out. You breathe because he can’t.

There’s a moment between breaths that can feel like a lifetime.

And when he finally takes that next breath you lose yours.

Green eyes searching for yours.

A hand reaching for yours.

You smile. You cuss. You laugh. You cry. And you talk and talk and talk.

You breathe. He breathes.

There are thousands of lifetimes still to be lived. And now you know how you plan on living them.


	7. Valentine

Link was lying in his bunk, clutching a crumpled-up envelope. He was wiping away tears as they fell. There was an invisible weight on his chest, pressing him down against the too-thin-for-his-frame mattress.

 _“They were from_ you _?!“_

Rhett’s words played in a loop inside Link’s head, paired with the images of his brows threading together before he turned and rushed out of their room.

Another rivulet of tears burst out of the corner of Link’s eye and he groaned, wiping them away with an angry rub. He turned on his side and tucked his knees against his chest, curling into himself. Closing his eyes tight didn’t stop the tears from flowing or lessen the impact of his self-imposed mental torture but it was something.

How could he have been so wrong?

Link took a deep shuddering breath and thought back. Could he actually be so clueless that he’d mistaken innocent acts of friendship for a secret crush? Had all of that just been him projecting his feelings on Rhett? He’d been so sure. And so excited about his plan.

Fourteen envelopes. Each with a card inside and in the card a simple message.

_I love your smile. The way it makes your eyes shine._

_I love the way you laugh at my stupid jokes._

_I love how excited you get about learning new things._

_I love your confidence._

_I love how creative you are._

_I love how smart you are._

_I love your singing. Listening to you sing is my favorite pastime._

_I love the softness in you._

_I love how strong you are._

_I love your chameleon eyes._

_I love that little mole above your lips._

_I love your hugs. Love the way your arms wrap all around me._

_I love the way you look at me._

Thirteen envelopes already delivered. Slipped between Rhett’s lecture notes and the pages of his school books, placed on his desk and inside his gym bag. One per day during the two weeks leading up to Valentine’s day.

The growing pile of envelopes on Rhett’s desk had made Link’s heart flutter. Neither of them had acknowledged them but Link had thought that was part of the charm of his plan. He’d thought Rhett wanted to wait until he had them all, wanted to wait until Valentine’s.

Oh, how wrong had he been.

The fourteenth envelope was still in Link’s hand. Never to be delivered. Never to be added to the pile. Never to be read by his best friend.

Was he still that? Was Rhett still his best friend? Was he even _a friend_?

Link felt like there was a hand wrapped around his throat, gripping it tightly, making him gasp for air.

_Did I lose him?_

A fresh wave of sobs wracked his body and he buried his face into his pillow to wail out his panic and fear.

Without Rhett... What was he without him?

Link sniffled and dragged himself up and over the side of the bed, dropping heavily on the floor. Rhett wouldn’t probably be back tonight. His bed was unmade. Link crawled into it and pressed his cheek against Rhett’s pillow. Instantly he was cocooned in the scent of him. Link pulled the covers over himself and welcomed the sweet, sharp pain stabbing at his heart as he smelled Rhett all around him.

Tomorrow he’d have to face him. He’d have to beg and plead for him to not leave. To forgive Link’s misunderstanding. There was still hope, right? Maybe after Rhett had cooled down a little and Link had explained, they could laugh about this and go back to being friends. It was possible. It had to be possible.

With a heavy sigh, Link closed his eyes and let himself be lulled into sleep by the fantasy of being wrapped around Rhett’s body instead of his bedding.

He woke up later, groggy and confused about where he was and whose warm body was pressed against his. He opened his eyes and was met with a soft smile and a pair of green-gray eyes watching him.

“Rhett?” Link muttered, trying to get up, suddenly horrified that Rhett had found him in _his_ bed.

But Rhett wouldn’t let him go. Instead, he pulled Link into his arms and pressed their foreheads together before whispering.

“Hi.”

“H—hey.”

“Sorry for scaring you. Didn’t wanna wake you.”

“I... I don’t— What’s—” Link stammered, trying to string together a sentence that would adequately express his confusion.

“I’m sorry I left so abruptly too. I had to go talk with Sarah.”

“Sarah?”

“The girl I’ve been dating.”

“Oh, I see,” Link said dumbly. He hadn’t known that Rhett was seeing someone.

“Do you?” Rhett asked with a smirk.

“No, actually. I don’t. What’s going on?”

“I thought the messages were from her.”

“Oh!”

Link’s stomach turned over and he hid behind his palms. _Stupid. So stupid. How could I have read him so wrong? How could I think it was me who was making him so happy? Of course, it was a girl._

“I should have realized...” Rhett whispered, prying Link’s hands away from his face. “...I should have recognized your hand-writing.”

Link stared at him. At his smile and twinkling eyes. He didn’t look mad. He didn’t look upset. He looked...

“Rhett, why’d you go see her?” Link asked slowly, trying not to let the hope blooming inside him swallow him whole.

“To end it, of course. I’m a decent guy. We weren’t exactly exclusive, but I thought it was best to make a clean break. Just so I could make out with you with a clean conscie—.”

That was all Link needed to hear. Rhett’s sentence was cut short by Link’s desperate embrace. Rhett answered him in kind, pulling them flush against each other for a kiss that would rock both of their worlds.

Somewhere between them, more creased than before was an envelope and inside it a card that read:

_I love you._


	8. "You have no idea how much I want you right now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: college!rhink

Link is determined to get Rhett talking tonight. It’s been weeks of moping and evading Link’s questions. Rhett keeps claiming everything is fine but it’s bullshit. And although Link’s afraid of the truth, he’s finally had enough.

As Link steps into their room, he’s met with the same heavy air of anxiety he’s grown used to during the past month. Rhett sits on the edge of his bed, leg bouncing nervously. He’s holding onto a piece of paper that looks like it’s been repeatedly crumpled and smoothed out. Rhett’s head whips up. His eyes are glossy and reddened. _That’s new. Has he been crying?_

Link feels a knot in his stomach starting to tighten.

“Hi?” Link says and it’s more like a question than a greeting.

“Can you— Uh, could you come here?” Rhett asks and waves towards his bed.

“Okay,” Link answers slowly, walks to him and sits down cross-legged, facing Rhett.

Rhett stares at him for a moment and Link feels like squirming under his best friend’s intense gaze.

“What’s up?” he finally asks, hoping to hurry along whatever it is that’s about to happen. “You’re kinda freaking me out.”

“I gotta tell you something. I— uh... I wrote it down because... Well, I think it’ll be— Shit. I just need to get this out,” Rhett mumbles and grips the paper so hard Link can hear it ripping. Rhett closes his eyes and breathes deep.

“Well, what are you waiting for then?” Link asks, trying to keep his voice measured and calm—trying not to let on that he’s shaking. Something is wrong. Something is horribly wrong. Link rubs his palm with the thumb of his other hand and swallows hard.

Rhett opens his eyes, takes a quick glance at Link and looks down at the paper.

“You’re my best friend—”

“You’re my best friend too,” Link interrupts, hoping that saying it aloud will affirm it. Rhett throws him a sad smile.

“Can you listen? Just until I’m done?”

“Okay. Sorry,” Link murmurs and bites his bottom lip. Rhett coughs and continues.

“You’ve been my best friend for so long that I can barely remember the time before you. My life has not been just _my life_. It’s been _our life_.”

Link’s heart kicks up a gear and the knot in his stomach tightens. _Is he going to say he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore? Is he gonna say that living together in college was a bad idea and that he’s sick of me?_

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s been good. And if it comes down to it, I will continue to be happy to have you in my life as a friend. But—here’s the thing. I feel like if I don’t say this now, it’s gonna swallow me whole. I understand that this may come as a shock to you. And I totally understand if you feel uncomfortable or—something.”

Rhett’s voice has started to quiver. Link is wringing his hands in his lap and fighting back tears.

There’s a silence that stretches impossibly long before the words rush out of Rhett.

“Link, I’m in love with you.”

“ _What?_ ”

Rhett turns to look at Link with pleading eyes.

“I tried not to. I swear! I fought it. I know it’s not— _right_ or whatever. But it feels right. In my heart, _it_ _feels right_.”

Link stares at him, jaw hanging slack. He wants to respond but it seems like he’s forgotten how to speak. As the silence drags on Rhett’s face falls and his shoulders slump.

“Are you serious?” Link whispers, finally getting his voice back. Rhett nods and Link can see one lone tear dripping down Rhett’s nose and clinging onto the tip of it.

“I’m sorry,” Rhett whispers.

With shaky limbs, Link unfurls himself from his sitting position and crawls to him. Rhett lifts his head and looks at him with raised brows.

“What’re you—”

Link pushes him back and climbs on his lap. His hands cup Rhett’s face and slowly he leans in and kisses the side of Rhett’s nose, tasting the salty trail the tear left behind.

“I love you too, you dumbass,” Link whispers with a soft smile. Rhett gasps and then his hands are on Link’s hips, squeezing, pulling them closer. Link can feel his hands moving under the hem of his t-shirt. The skin on skin contact makes both of them sigh from relief. After years of fighting it, it feels almost too good to let go. It feels decadent.

“I’ve been loving you forever,” Link says and kisses the cute little mole Rhett has above his lip.

“I’ve been dreaming about kissing you for years,” Link continues and softly kisses Rhett’s cheek.

“Me too,” Rhett husks. His voice is thin and shaky and sounds more like a gasp. The corner of Link’s lips tugs upwards.

“Well, what are you waiting for then?”

Rhett lets out a whine and dives for Link’s lips. The kiss takes Link’s breath away. It’s desperate and beautiful. It’s raw and real and everything Link ever dreamt and hoped for. The way Rhett’s tongue brushes against Link’s makes his stomach tighten again, this time for a totally different reason.

It doesn’t take long for them to fall onto the bed. Rhett yanks Link’s shirt up. His hands travel along his skin, rubbing and petting and teasing and making Link feel so light-headed he’s afraid he’s gonna pass out.

“You’re so soft,” Rhett murmurs into Link’s ear. “So gorgeous.”

Link whimpers into Rhett’s neck and grinds against his thigh.

“You have no idea how much I want you right now. How long I’ve wanted to touch you like this. To make you moan. To make you mine. To make you come.”

It’s hard to think when Rhett’s hands are in places they’ve never been before.

“Well, what are you waiting for then?” is all Link manages to get out before he’s rendered speechless by Rhett’s wandering hands and eager mouth.


	9. Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: alternative universe, unrequited love

Link has a secret. It’s an old one. He’s had it for so long it’s changed shape over the years—it grew as he did.

When Link was little, it was barely a secret. It was something he couldn’t put into words. It was a lightness in his stomach, a bloom in his chest. He once tried to explain it to Rhett, but the look of confusion he got was enough for him to drop it and move on. 

When Link was a teenager that unidentified feeling turned into a proper secret. In hindsight, it took him ridiculously long to realize that it was the same thing he felt when a cute girl smiled at him—just magnitudes stronger. It only happened with Rhett. With Rhett’s smile and Rhett’s touch and Rhett’s voice tickling his ear in the darkness of their bedrooms when they stayed up through the night and whispered secrets into each other’s ears under a shared blanket. 

Not that secret, though. Link would _never_ tell that secret.

By college, the secret had morphed again. The lightness was replaced with a heavy ache in his belly every time Rhett came from the showers with a towel flung around his waist, his torso glistening, smelling shower-fresh. Link tried not to look. He swears he really tried. He didn’t think Rhett noticed, though. There were too many girls to chase, too many lips to kiss, too many parties to attend and too many evenings to spend on someone’s couch playing video games. 

Then there was that one night. They were both drunk. Rhett more than Link, at least Link thought so. Why else would he have pulled Link into his bed when they stumbled into their room only hours before the sun rose again? 

Nothing happened. They just slept. But Link still remembers the way Rhett’s arm felt slung around his waist—heavy and perfect. He remembers the way Rhett’s alcohol-infused breath warmed the sensitive skin behind his ear. He remembers lying still for hours, staring at the bottom of his own bunk, trying to will his erection away and failing miserably. Link slipped out of the bed before Rhett woke up the next morning, scared of his potential reaction. 

They never talked about that night. 

After college, things got easier for a while. They no longer lived together. But then Rhett found someone precious to him. Link was jealous. Of course he was. But he never let it show. She was amazing and they were the perfect couple. A year went by. Then another. Rhett was busy with his job and his girlfriend. Link saw him less and less. It was both a relief and a source of pain. He spent too many lonely nights thinking about Rhett sleeping with his arms wrapped around her, and eventually, Link found someone to make his nights less lonely. 

Link was Rhett’s best man. That was a tough day. Rhett looked dashing in his tux. She looked like a fairy princess. The joy they felt was so palpable that more than once Link had to avert his gaze. 

But the night before the wedding was even worse. Link shared a hotel room with Rhett at the venue. They spent the night sitting on the floor at the foot of one of the beds, reminiscing about the good old days. Rhett kept pouring them drinks despite Link’s insistence that he wouldn’t want to be hungover on his wedding day. By midnight, both of them felt the room swaying. 

That night Link woke up to his covers being lifted. Rhett crawled into his queen-size bed and squeezed in next to him. 

“This okay?” A quiet whisper.

“Yeah.” 

Link didn’t sleep a wink after that. All he did was try and imprint to his memory the perfect way Rhett’s body fit against his and how Rhett sounded in his sleep. Again, Link slipped out of the bed before Rhett woke up. No need to embarrass the man on his wedding day.

Years went by. Link had partners but none of them stayed for too long. Sometimes Rhett seemed to be worried about that. 

“You need someone,” he’d say, with a sigh, while holding the hand of his wife at the dinner table. Link would nod from across the table and smile.

“Easy for you to say,” he would reply. “You’ve already met the love of your life.”

“That’s true. I have,” Rhett would whisper and his wife would lean over and kiss him on the cheek. And every time, Rhett’s eyes would bore into Link’s, deep green and filled with pain. And Link would always look away so Rhett couldn’t read the secret from his.

First there were pets, then children. There were jobs that they hated and loved. There were garden parties and cookouts. There were birthdays and graduations. There were good times and bad. And all the while, Link held onto his secret. It was heavy, but he knew it was his to bear. 

Eventually, they grow old. Link’s head went gray years ago, Rhett’s is only now catching up to him.

One warm evening, they sit on Rhett’s porch, drinking lemonade, enjoying the view. Link is humming an old tune under his breath when suddenly Rhett reaches for his hand. Link silences and stares at their intertwined fingers. Rhett takes a deep breath and says quietly “I’m sorry.”

“About what?” Link asks, heart in his throat.

“That I couldn’t love you like you deserved.”

Link’s breath catches in his chest and the tears are flowing before he can stop them. 

“You knew?” he asks with a quiver. Rhett nods.

Link waits for the pain, but it doesn’t come. He feels—lighter. After all, his secret was never just his to carry. He smiles. Rhett’s cheeks are wet with tears. Link squeezes his hand. Rhett squeezes back.

“It’s okay. You loved me. That’s enough.”


	10. "There's only one bed"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: engineering co-workers AU

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Rhett growled at the receptionist. Link saw the clerk’s jaw tightening, but his customer-service smile didn’t falter. 

“I’m sorry, Sir. Everything else is booked. There’s a conference at the hotel. If the room is unacceptable to you, you can try one of the other hotels in the area.” 

“We’ll take it,” Link said, pushing Rhett aside and pulling out his credit card. Rhett huffed and stomped to the elevators. Link flashed the man tapping on the computer a small apologetic smile. 

“I’m sorry about that. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s okay. I’ve heard worse. Here,” the receptionist said and gave Link their key cards. “Fifth floor.”

“Thank you.”

They rode the elevator in silence. Rhett was fuming. The annoyance emanated him in waves Link could practically see, but he said nothing. It was better to let Rhett stew in peace. He’d learned that much during the year they’d been working side by side. Their shared office at the little engineering firm was a luxury; most of the employees had their desks in cubicles in the open office area. Unfortunately, Link’s office mate had made it clear from the beginning that he hated him. Link still hadn’t figured out what about him annoyed Rhett so much.

The hotel room was small and cozy. There was a little desk with a kettle and an assortment of teas and instant coffee. A modern armchair sat in the corner accompanied by a simple reading lamp. The bed took most of the square footage.

“ _There’s only one bed,_ ” Rhett said in a mocking voice, badly mimicking the receptionist. “I’m gonna skin the person that was supposed to book our rooms.”

“It’s fine. You can take it, I’ll sleep in the tub or something,” Link offered and set his bag on the armchair. Rhett opened the bathroom door. 

“No tub. Just a shower.” 

Link’s stomach sank and he eyed the thin carpet beside the bed appraisingly. Rhett seemed to guess what he was thinking.

“You’re not gonna sleep on the floor. We have to be on top of our game tomorrow for the presentation. We’ll just share,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “I’m gonna shower first. That okay?” 

Without waiting for a confirmation, Rhett disappeared into the bathroom and Link sat on the edge of the bed. He let out a long, deep sigh. When they’d been told about the work trip—three days together at a conference in New York—Link had been hopeful. Maybe he could finally get on Rhett’s good side. It looked like that had been a pipe dream.

Half an hour later, Link stepped out of the bathroom, hair still damp and cheeks flushed from the hot shower. At least that was what he told himself. His blushing definitely had nothing to do with the fact that before going to the bathroom, he’d seen Rhett parading around the room in his tight boxer briefs.

How unfair was it that his dick still hadn’t gotten the memo that Rhett was not someone to get hard for.

Rhett had taken the far side of the bed. Link slipped between the covers on his side and turned off his light. Darkness fell and amplified the thudding beat in Link’s ears. He was in bed—with _Rhett McLaughlin_. They were nowhere near touching, Rhett had even placed a pillow between them, but Link still couldn’t quiet his filthy mind. He listened to the sound of Rhett’s breathing and his mind was filled with images of skin sliding against skin, a hand slipping under a waistband and mouths colliding in the darkness. 

Link turned onto his stomach, trying to will his stubborn erection away. 

“Stay on your side,” a gruff sound came from the other side of the bed.

“I was just adjusting,” Link said, faintly annoyed. “I’m not gonna try and forcibly cuddle you.”

“Good. This is bad enough, I don’t want you anywhere closer to me.”

“You know what? Fuck off!” Suddenly, Link was so angry he was shaking. He sat up, took his pillow and smacked Rhett with it.

“Hey!” Rhett yelped and jerked up.

“What have I _ever_ done to you?! Like seriously. I have never been anything but nice to you. I tried to get to know you. And when it became glaringly obvious you had no desire to get to know me, I left you alone. And you still act like I’m the devil. What _the fuck_ do you want me to do?!”

Rhett fell silent. Link was panting. This wasn’t something he did. He didn’t lash out. His heart was hammering painfully in his chest and he was on the edge of tears. The silence stretched on. Link was just about to give up and apologize, maybe try to get at least some sleep, when he heard a quiet sob. Was Rhett—crying?

“I’m sorry,” Rhett muttered, voice wet with tears. Link sat, back straight, body vibrating. _What should I do?_

“It’s fine,” he finally whispered, reaching his hand and awkwardly patting Rhett on the shoulder. 

“It’s not you. It’s me. I’m—” Rhett’s voice broke as another sob wracked through him.

“You don’t have to—” Link started to say.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Rhett’s word slammed to Link and stayed bouncing around his mind.

“W—what?” 

“I said—” Rhett stopped to hiccup pathetically. “I think I’m—”

“I heard you. I just— I can’t… But you _hate_ me,” Link stammered, feeling more confused than he’d ever felt before.

“I don’t hate you. I hate _me_!” Rhett groaned and burrowed under the covers. For a while, Link just sat there, staring at the shivering mound of man and fabric. Nothing made sense. Except—maybe it did.

“Rhett,” Link said, carefully pulling away the covers. Rhett sniffled. “Can we talk about this?” Link reached to gently touch Rhett’s cheek. Rhett’s eyes fluttered closed at the touch and he whimpered. 

“Rhett, I—” 

“No. We can’t,” Rhett gasped and before Link could say anything else Rhett had gotten out of the bed, grabbed his clothes and escaped the room. Link was left alone in the darkness, wondering what the hell had just happened.


	11. Lucky

Rhett has always considered himself a lucky person. Luck being some kind of mixture of divine guidance and pure chance. 

These are the things that have made him feel luckiest:

Age 6: There’s a boy in his class with a funny name and bright blue eyes. He agrees to a sleepover and Rhett gets to peek at his family’s fridge. They laugh long into the night.

Age 10: They ride their bikes to the river and swim the day away. It’s too hot to talk unless they’re almost entirely submerged into water. Once, after Link dives, he surfaces and shakes his head like a wet dog, making Rhett giggle and do the same to him. Link laughs and says, “I’m so happy you’re my best friend”.

Age 15: The game is always exciting to Rhett. His head is filled with hormones and girls and as the bottle spins, his head is spinning too at the possibility of a kiss. It doesn’t matter it’ll be a soft peck, barely a kiss really, more like a quick touch but it still gets Rhett’s blood pumping and fuels his nightly activities. The bottle stops and everyone whoops and hollers and Rhett’s head is no longer spinning, it’s in a free fall. Link’s blushing and moving towards him, eyes twinkling with mischief. His lips are soft and perfect and Rhett fakes a gag but that night he tangles in his sheets, sweaty and aching, thinking about those lips kissing him again and again. 

Age 17: It’s dark and warm and the river is glimmering with moonlight. They share sips of the foul drink, brewed in secret in Rhett’s bathroom. They laugh and grimace and talk and talk and talk. The wine makes a home in Rhett’s belly, sloshing around and warming his insides. Link smiles at him and Rhett’s no longer warm, he’s hot all over. His heart is beating in his ears when he leans over and brushes his lips against Link’s. Link laughs, tells him he tastes awful but pulls him back into another kiss. And another. They are a tangle of limbs and sighs and at some point, Link’s hand is under Rhett’s shirt and he’s sure there will be a palm print branded on his skin tomorrow.

Age 19: They move into a dorm together. Rhett gets to live with him. They share a couch and a cabinet of food. They share a space and Rhett gets to be with him every day. He even gets to wake up next to him sometimes.

Age 20: Link lets Rhett touch him one last time. He’s found someone. “It’s love,” he says smiling. Rhett smiles too but inside he’s hollow. That night he says goodbye to every inch of Link’s skin, to every sigh and whine he’s grown so used to pulling from him with his hands and his mouth. “I’ll miss this,” Link says before he falls asleep in Rhett’s arms. Rhett doesn’t sleep. He just holds Link close.

Age 23: He doesn’t have to be the best man at Link’s wedding. 

Age 26: Link becomes a father. The happiness radiates off of him and it would be impossible for Rhett not to share that happiness. That night they celebrate with drinks and food. They sit out on the back porch for hours and talk. Link bares his soul, pours out his insecurities and worries of being a good father and a good husband. Rhett assures him he’s gonna be great, that he’ll learn, that he’ll do his best. Link leans his head against Rhett’s shoulder and takes his hand into his own. “Thank you, for always being there for me.”

Age 30: They are creating together. They have a company and goals and dreams. Link’s there in his life, every day.

Age 34: They move to California. It’s an adventure and they are both giddy and scared and they get to do it together.

Age 40: In their little corner of the Internet, they are famous. They work hard and they grow their business. There are long nights and early morning commutes and Link’s right there beside him.

Age 41: They write a book. They tour. They sing and make jokes and laugh and sleep on the bus, waking up groggy and aching, cursing their lost youth. Rhett gets Link all to himself for a week and then another and something shifts. Link’s looking at him differently. More soft in the eyes, a smile tugging at his lips even when Rhett’s not joking. Rhett doesn’t dare to hope for anything more. He takes those smiles and locks them up inside his heart. A heart that’s still bursting at the seams, filled with Charles Lincoln Neal III, his best friend and partner in crime.

Age 42: They write another book. They tour again. They perform at the Ryman. It’s a lot. Being there, on that stage makes Rhett dizzy. He’s thankful and elated and after the show he doesn’t even realize he’s crying until Link’s there and he’s kissing away the tears. Rhett clings to him, afraid that Link will shake off the moment of clarity Rhett sees in his eyes. But he doesn’t. For the first time in over two decades, they sleep tangled together again.

Age 43: There’s a man in his life with a funny name and bright blue eyes. He sometimes spends the night at Rhett’s house and Rhett gets to hold him tight while they laugh long into the night. 


	12. "I can’t imagine this world without you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: apocalypse/post-apocalyptic AU

**1/23/2025 7:55 pm:** Hey, I think the call got disconnected? What’s going on

 **1/23/2025 7:57 pm:** What the hell is going on out there?!

 **1/23/2025 7:59 pm** Calling Link… Unanswered

 **1/23/2025 8:00 pm:** We’re going to the bunker. CALL ME

 **1/23/2025 8:16 pm** Calling Link… Unanswered

 **1/23/2025 8:17 pm** Calling Link… Unanswered

 **1/23/2025 8:18 pm** Calling Link… Unanswered

 **1/23/2025 8:19 pm** Calling Link… Unanswered

 **1/23/2025 8:20 pm** Calling Link… Unanswered

 **1/23/2025 8:21 pm:** PICK UP!!!

 **1/23/2025 8:21 pm** Calling Link… Unanswered

 **1/23/2025 8:27 pm** Calling Link… Unanswered

 **1/23/2025 8:35 pm** Calling Link… Unanswered

 **1/23/2025 8:49 pm** Calling Link… Unanswered

 **1/23/2025 8:58 pm** Calling Link… Unanswered

 **1/23/2025 9:00 pm:** Are you safe?!

 **1/23/2025 9:01 pm:** You better have lost your phone

 **1/23/2025 9:30 pm:** Please pick up

 **1/23/2025 11:45 pm:** I need to know you’re safe

**1/24/2025**

**Day 2**

**The McLaughlin Bunker:**

**__** _Decided to start keeping some notes. Like a captain’s log, you know? An apocalypse log! Ha! We’re settling in. I’ve been trying to reach someone with the HAM-radio. Some dude in Santa Ana replied but he didn’t know anything either. You’re still not answering. I think you had to leave your phone._

_I hope you had to leave your phone._

**1/25/2025**

**Day 3**

**The McLaughlin Bunker:**

**__** _We did an inventory. We’re good for at least 6 months, maybe more. No idea when it’ll be safe to go up. Eventually we have to. Spirits are surprisingly high. I think it hasn’t really hit us yet._

**1/27/2025**

**Day 5**

**The McLaughlin Bunker:**

**__** _The phone lines are dead. Can’t even try and call you anymore. I know this is stupid but trying to reach you made me feel better. Like I was doing something. Now I just… worry._

**2/4/2025**

**Day 13**

**The McLaughlin Bunker:**

**__** _I think this is the longest we’ve gone without talking._

_~~I hope you’re aliv~~ I hope you’re safe._

_I can’t imagine this world without you._

**2/5/2025**

**Day 14**

**The McLaughlin Bunker:**

**__** _I miss you_

**2/19/2025**

**Day 28**

**The McLaughlin Bunker:**

**__** _It’s been a rough few days. Jessie has been sick. Just a cold. We think. We hope. The kids are keeping a brave face but I think they are scared. I’m scared too._

_I need to talk with you. I need to hear your voice._

**2/23/2025**

**Day 32**

**The McLaughlin Bunker:**

**__** _Jessie is feeling better. We had a little party to celebrate and ate some cookies. I’m trying to be the strong one. I know I gotta. But it’s hard without you by my side._

**3/8/2025**

**Day 45**

**The McLaughlin Bunker:**

**__** _I keep dreaming about the day. I keep dreaming about you. Nightmares. They’re only nightmares. I know you’re fine. I know it because if you weren’t, I’d know that. I’d feel that. Because part of me is just missing…. Not gone._

**3/30/2025**

**Day 67**

**The McLaughlin Bunker:**

**__** _Spirits are low. We’ve been bickering a lot. I think that’s normal. It’s not exactly a palace down here and the food… It’s not bad exactly but it’s not good either. I don’t mind. You know me… Ha! But I think it’s harder for the others. But you must know all this. You’re in the same situation. Right?_

**4/23/2025**

**Day 91**

**The McLaughlin Bunker:**

**__** _It’s been three months today. Feels like three years. Feels like a lifetime. We can’t keep living like this. I’m thinking about going above to see the situation. Jessie is against it. She’s scared. I get it. But I keep thinking that maybe I can do it. Maybe it’s not gonna be so bad._

_Maybe I can come find you._

**6/1/2025**

**Day 131**

**The McLaughlin Bunker:**

**__** _Happy birthday old man_

_I miss you_

**6/2/2025**

**Day 132**

**The McLaughlin Bunker:**

**__** _I went up. It wasn’t good._

**6/3/2025**

**Day 133**

**The McLaughlin Bunker:**

**__** _Jessie’s still mad at me. I have a cough now. But I think it’s just from the dust._

**6/15/2025**

**Day 145**

**The McLaughlin Bunker:**

**__** _The cough is not letting up. That’s a bit troubling. We don’t have any antibiotics anymore. Used the last ones when Jess got sick. I might have to go and get some._

**7/7/2025**

**Day 167**

**The McLaughlin Bunker:**

**__** _Sometimes it’s hard to breathe. I haven’t told Jess. She doesn’t need another thing to worry about. Inventory is low. We’ve started rationing. No one is having fun._

**7/10/2025**

**Day 170**

**The McLaughlin Bunker:**

**__** _Rhett can’t get out of bed anymore. The fever is making him hallucinate. Locke tried to sneak out last night to get meds. I’m not proud of the way I yelled at him. We’re not losing hope. —Jess_

**7/14/2025**

**Day 174**

**The McLaughlin Bunker:**

**__** _We hear noises. Someone’s in the house._

**7/14/2025**

**Day 174**

**The McLaughlin Bunker:**

**__** _I read all your notes. You’re such a softie. —Link_

**7/15/2025**

**Day 175**

**The McLaughlin-Neal Bunker:**

**__** _We think the meds seem to be helping. You still think I’m not real. The things you say… Wow, man. You really missed me. —Link_

_I missed you too. —Link_

**7/18/2025**

**Day 178**

**The McLaughlin-Neal Bunker:**

**__** _I can’t believe you read my notes. Rude! —Rhett_

_Hush. I saved your life. —Link_

_I’m glad you’re here. —Rhett_

_Me too —Link_

**7/19/2025**

**Day 179**

**The McLaughlin-Neal Bunker:**

**__** _We’re gonna make it. Together._


	13. Adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: hurt/comfort, injury (not graphic)

“When was the last time we went on an adventure?” Rhett had asked him, hopping excitedly around their office. Link had rolled his eyes and muttered something about family men in their forties and the fact that adventures were not exactly the priority. 

But Rhett had insisted. And eventually, Link had conceded. He always did. He still liked to put up a fight, to keep up the appearance that one day he might not follow Rhett to the ends of the Earth. They both knew that would never actually happen, but by unspoken agreement, they acted like it could.

This time, Link had followed Rhett to three-day-long off-roading trip. Just them and the untamed nature, Rhett had boasted when they drove for hours before even leaving the paved roads. 

Link had been feeling some kind of way the whole morning. 

“I don’t know if we should go,” he’d said to Rhett when he came to pick him up.

“No! You’re not gonna chicken out now,” Rhett had moaned. And despite the gnawing dread in the back of his mind, Link had gone with him.

That was four days ago. 

Link dunked the empty bottle into the cold stream and waited for it to fill as his submerged hand slowly went numb. The forest was alive with birds and bugs and small creatures. Big too, probably, but thankfully, they hadn’t seen any yet—except one deer that had quickly bolted away. 

Link felt slightly delirious; he hadn’t slept much since the accident. He could usually fall asleep at any time and anywhere and sleep like a log. He’d come to find that there was one thing that managed to keep him up.

Rhett was in pain.

He tried to hide it, but Link knew. He saw it in the crease of Rhett’s brows, in the forced smile, in the nonchalant chatter. For Link, it was as clear as if Rhett had been wailing. But Rhett didn’t cry or moan or whine. Not after Link had gotten him out of the car and done his best at first aid. The way Rhett had screamed when Link tightened the tourniquet around his thigh still made Link shiver. It was the worst sound Link had ever heard and it kept playing on a loop in his mind—slowly chipping away his sanity.

The bottle was finally full. Link screwed the cap on tight—he’d learned that the hard way—and opened the second one. It was always easier. His hand was already numb, so the water almost felt pleasant.

They’d tried to call for help, but there was no signal and the crash had destroyed the sat phone. They waited in the car for two days, before they decided to try and trek to civilization. 

That might have been a mistake. 

Rhett was getting weaker by the hour. He could barely stand anymore, arm slung over Link’s shoulder as they walked, leaning against him with almost all of his weight. Link wasn’t a weakling, years of gym training had done him good, but even he had his limits. Especially, after they’d run out of food about a day ago.

But he knew he had to be strong—for Rhett.

“Hey, buddy,” Link said, walking back to the little grove he’d left Rhett to rest. He sat against a massive tree trunk with his eyes closed, but they fluttered open when he heard Link’s voice. His lips turned into a weary smile.

“Hey,” he croaked, coughed and moved slowly to try to get up. The coughing had gotten worse and Link tried his hardest not to theorize what it could mean. He rushed to Rhett’s side and sat down, pulling Rhett gently back down next to him.

“Let’s just sit. I need a moment, too,” Link said, opening a bottle and handing it to Rhett.

“Thanks,” Rhett said with a relieved sigh and tried to lift the bottle. It shook in his hand and water splashed onto his lap. Rhett groaned. 

“Whoa there, lemme help.”

“I can do it,” Rhett mumbled defiantly, but Link easily extracted the bottle from his weak grip and brought it onto his lips. Rhett drank eagerly, water dribbling from the corner of his mouth to his scraggly beard. Link wiped it off with his thumb. 

They sat in silence, listening to the buzz and hum of the nature around them.

“I’m really sorry,” Rhett said quietly, startling Link from a hazy half-sleep he’d fallen into. 

It had gotten dark. 

Rhett was shivering and Link reached to lift up the collar of his jacket. His finger brushed against Rhett’s neck. It was like touching an ember. Link sat up, heart thumping. He touched Rhett’s forehead and cheeks with his palms and was met with more scalding-hot skin. Rhett’s eyes were closed and his breathing had a small, terrifying whine to it.

“Shit,” Link muttered. “Shit. Shit. Fuck! Rhett? Buddy? Come on, open your eyes for me!” Link shook him hard and finally, Rhett’s eyes opened a little. They were glassy and unfocused.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, voice small and pleading, reaching for Link with a trembling hand. Link pulled Rhett against himself and Rhett’s head fell against Link’s shoulder, his forehead so hot Link could imagine it steaming as it touched his skin.

“Shhh, it’s okay, bo. Everything’s gonna be okay,” Link mumbled into Rhett’s curls, kissing the top of his head. He wasn’t sure if he was shaking too, or if Rhett shook so badly it made both of them tremble.

“At least we got that adventure, right?” Rhett mumbled and let out a laugh that turned into a coughing fit. Link couldn’t help the hysterical giggle that bubbled out of him. He squeezed his friend’s limp body. “Everything is an adventure with you, bo.” 

“ _Everything,_ ” he repeated with a lump in his throat and stared into the darkness, holding onto Rhett like his life depended upon it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1/2. Continues in the next chapter. ^^


	14. “All I wanted was for you to be happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: part 2/2 (see last chapter), hurt/comfort, injury (not graphic, hospital

The forest was eerily quiet. Rhett’s head lay on Link’s chest and Link listened to his labored breaths. He kept a tally of them—a morbid version of counting sheep. He didn’t actually want to fall asleep. He was afraid of what might happen if he did. The night was cold, but Rhett’s feverish body kept them warm.

“Link,” Rhett mumbled, an edge of panic in his voice, shifting in Link’s arms. Link’s hand immediately flew to Rhett’s hair for a soothing pet.

“Shh, I’m here.” Link’s words relaxed Rhett to slump back against him. 

“I’m sorry,” Rhett muttered against Link’s chest. “All I wanted was for you to be happy.”

“Hush now. You gotta stop apologizing,” Link said, voice tight.

“I need you to…” A whining cough interrupted Rhett. With a heavy heart and a tight chest, Link rubbed his friend’s back, wishing he could do more. 

“Need you to call mom and dad,” Rhett said quietly, words falling from his lips slowly as if he needed to gather his strength before saying the next one.

“Oh, bo. I can’t. There’s no ser—”

“No, I mean... After. If I don’t make it, I—”

“No!” Link croaked and squirmed against Rhett until they were face to face. He cupped Rhett’s cheeks and stared into his eyes. “Don’t say that. Never say that. We’re getting out of here. Together. Tomorrow, at first light, I’m gonna figure something out. I promise. Just…”

Link drew a shuddering breath, fighting the swell of tears. “Just hold on. You need to fight. Yeah? Promise me, Rhett. Promise me that you won’t give up on me.”

Rhett stared past him for a long time and Link started to think he might be too out of it to understand, but then Rhett sighed and nodded solemnly. “I promise.”

Link bit his trembling bottom lip and pressed their forehead together. 

“Now sleep,” he whispered. “You’ll feel better in the morning.” 

A lie. A prayer. A wish. Whatever those words were, they were there to give solace to him as much as for Rhett.

Rhett’s lips quirked into a trembling smile and for a beat his eyes focused on Link’s.

“You’re so beautiful in this light,” he mumbled, his fingers gently brushing against Link’s cheek. Link huffed out a panicked laugh.

“Your fever is making you hallucinate,” he said, voice breaking as he swallowed down a sob.

“No,” Rhett husked. “It’s making me see clearly.”

Link pressed a kiss onto Rhett’s forehead. He tasted of salt and the forest and of Rhett, and Link wished he had the courage to kiss Rhett’s lips. He wished the morning would hurry. He wished for a miracle. Most of all, Link wished for more time to find his courage.

———

Link woke up with a start. Instinctively, he reached for Rhett but came up empty. He sat up quickly, heart lodged in his throat and dread gnawing at his stomach. 

“Rhett?” he croaked, disoriented by his surroundings.

The room was bathed in soft morning light. A room? They were in a room? 

Crisp white sheets and the smell of disinfectant. A steady beep somewhere close. 

“Oh, you’re awake! Good morning, Mr. Neal,” a cheery voice came from the door. Link turned to look at a smiling nurse.

“Morning?” Link said, warily.

The nurse walked past Link and up to a hospital bed that Link hadn’t yet noticed.

_Rhett!_

The nurse fiddled with equipment and tapped on a pad she was carrying.

“I’m sure you’re happy to hear your friend is doing well,” she said after she was done. 

“I don’t—” Link started before her words landed. When they did, a tear rolled down his cheek. “He is?”

“Yes, definitely. He still needs a lot of rest and we have to keep an eye on the infection on his leg, but he’ll be as good as new.”

“Thank you,” Link sighed. The memories slowly trickled back. That dreadful night spent in the forest. Rhett’s labored breaths and his body trembling from the fever. An early morning hiker with a sat phone. A helicopter. The hospital. Rhett being wheeled away and he…

“I’m sorry about—” Link said feeling the burn of embarrassment, rubbing the edge of the sheet between his fingers. He’d thrown a fit, screamed and fought. They’d finally given in, brought him to Rhett and brought him the cot to sleep in.

The nurse gave him an empathetic smile.

“I’ve seen worse, dear. You were worried.”

Link nodded, blushing. The nurse gave his shoulder a gentle pat and left. 

Link dragged his cot next to Rhett’s bed and sank back onto it. He reached for Rhett’s hand and intertwined their fingers. Rhett’s palm was warm, a normal kind of warm, no longer burning. Link was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. 

———

When he woke up again, it was to a soft, tickling touch on the back of his hand. His eyes flitted open.

“Hey, there,” a rough voice murmured. Link’s gaze whipped to Rhett. He was laying on his side, pressing small kisses onto Link’s hand. He looked better. He looked like himself. Except for… 

“Hi,” Link rasped, staring at Rhett’s eyes. The unabashed love that shone from them made Link’s stomach swoop and his cheeks flush.

Another soft kiss.

“Been waiting for a while for you to wake up. I got impatient,” Rhett said, smiling. 

Another soft kiss.

“Well, I’m awake now. Are you gonna keep doing that?” Link asked, nodding towards his hand.

“I might,” Rhett said with a smirk. “At least until you bring those sweet lips of yours a little closer.”

 _Heat._ Oh, sweet, delicious heat everywhere; Link was drowning in it. He got up on his elbows and Rhett leaned over the railing of the hospital bed.

The kiss was a delicate thing. An end and a beginning all wrapped in one soft touch and two deep sighs.

“You look so beautiful in this light,” Rhett murmured against Link’s lips.

Link grinned and kissed him again. 


	15. High

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: angst with a happy ending, AU where they haven't seen since college

Link’s office was on the corner of the top floor of the building. A building he owned. He owned a few of them actually, but this one was the highest and he chosen this room to be his office purely because of the view. It was magnificent. Two floor-to-ceiling windows, meeting at the corner, giving him a panoramic view of the skyline. 

When the company first moved into the new building Link started and ended every day with an almost meditative moment staring out at the city below.

But that was many years ago and the view no longer affected him. He barely noticed it. To be fair, he barely noticed anything except his laptop and occasionally his phone. That was the price to pay, for heading one of the country’s most successful companies. At least that’s what he told himself on the rare occasion he stopped to think about his life—or the lack thereof.

“Mr. Neal,” a chirpy voice called from the door. Link didn’t lift his gaze from the proposal.

“What?!” He hadn’t meant to bark like that; sometimes the tightness in his chest just sprang out. From the corner of his eye he saw the assistant flinch. Her smile didn’t falter, though.

“You have a visitor.”

“I don’t have any meetings today,” Link murmured, annoyed.

“It’s not a business meeting. He said you know him. Rhett McLaughlin?”

Link’s heart missed a beat. His head snapped up.

“Wha—?”

And there he was. Standing tall behind Link’s assistant, smirking at him over her head. Link swallowed around the lump that had suddenly lodged in his throat. He hadn’t seen Rhett since… _No. Don’t think about that night._

“Hey there, Mr. Big shot,” Rhett greeted him, stepping into the office, eyeing around curiously. Link’s assistant threw a questioning glance at Link and he waved her away.

“Hi,” he said when the door closed behind her. “What are y—? I mean, great to see you. It’s been a while.”

Rhett glanced at him with an unreadable half-smile. The pang Link felt in his chest was almost like a punch. There had been a time when he’d known what Rhett was thinking without looking at him. They’d been inseparable. In sync. Best friends. Brothers. 

And then there had been the possibility of more. One tequila-fueled night had changed everything. 

But Link had to go and mess it all up.

Rhett sat down on a chair next to the door. Link frowned.

“You can come and sit here,” he offered, pointing at the sitting area next to his desk. Rhett laughed and Link could easily read the discomfort on his face.

“I’ll rather stay here. Scared of heights, remember?”

“Ah. Yeah. Sorry,” Link muttered, cheeks flushing. He did remember.

“So, what brings you to town?” Link asked and sat on the edge of his desk, trying to fight need to walk up to Rhett and sink on his knees in front of him. Beg. He could beg for forgiveness.

“Networking or some bullshit. There’s a trade show. Stevie made me do it.”

Link knew Rhett had a small furniture shop back home. He made all the pieces himself. Wood, of course. They were beautiful. Link had a few in his home, bought under pseudonyms. 

“Is Stevie your—?” Link couldn’t get the word _boyfriend_ out. It got stuck in his throat, tacky and disquieting.

“Business partner,” Rhett said, voice level.

They stared at each other for a moment. Link wanted to look away. Rhett’s appraising gaze made him ache all over. But he couldn’t. Rhett was here and Link would be damned if he didn’t soak up every second they were in the same space together.

“You’ve done well,” Rhett finally said, waving his hand in a long arc over the office. Link nodded slowly. 

Had he? Had he really done well? Yes, he had money now and respect in his field. He’d been able to buy his Mama a proper house and there wasn’t much Link couldn’t buy.

But the thing he most wanted in life… That was something that wasn’t for sale. 

Suddenly, Rhett stood up. Link moved too as if pulled by him.

“I don’t know why I came…” Rhett said, reaching for the door. “Maybe I should just—”

“No!” Link’s voice broke. 

Rhett turned to look at him. The air was thick with unspoken words. Decades of regret weighed upon them. Link’s heart hammered in his chest and his palms were sweaty when he reached towards Rhett.

“I’m sorry. I—I fucked up…everything. What I said…” Link drew a deep breath, fighting the tears. “Unacceptable. Horrific. I have no excuse and I— If I could, I’d go back in time and do it all over again.”

Rhett’s head tilted to the side and he took a tentative step towards Link.

“And what would you say? If you had that chance?” he asked, voice hoarse and quiet. Link stepped towards him.

“I’d say… That I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared of how I feel. How _much_ I feel. It consumes me. The love I feel for y—”

Link didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. Rhett bridged the gap between them. Link’s face was cradled in Rhett’s hands and Rhett’s lips were pressed against Link’s. The kiss was soft and searching. Link’s lips parted and he whimpered when Rhett’s tongue swiped against his own. 

The sound made Rhett groan and Link was pushed backwards until his back hit the window. He was pressed between the glass and the love of his life, and his head was in the clouds when Rhett kissed him again—more insistent and needy.

“I thought you were afraid of heights,” Link whispered between kisses.

“The only high I’m concerned right now is the one I get from kissing you,” Rhett murmured against his lips. 

Link blushed.

The city sprawled into the horizon below them and once again, Link couldn’t see it’s splendor. 

He only had eyes for the man he loved.


	16. "You’ve always got me"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: homophobia, teenage!randl, a hint of rhink, coming out

Rhett was pacing between two large tombstones when Link rode into the graveyard. Even from afar Link saw that Rhett was not okay. He wrung his hands and tried to thread his fingers through his hair that no longer had the length for tugging. It had been buzzed only two days ago. Rhett still tried, palming his scalp in frustration.

A shower of gravel flew into the grass in a sweet arc when Link braked, swinging his back wheel to the side to turn and stop the bike simultaneously. Grinning, Link turned to look at Rhett, waiting for him to acknowledge Link’s cool trick. Rhett stared back but said nothing as if he hadn’t even noticed. Link kicked down the bike stand and walked up to Rhett, feeling a bit miffed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, trying not to show his disappointment. It was Rhett after all who’d summoned Link there with a hushed phone call.

 _Graveyard. Come as soon as you can. We need to talk._ Rhett’s words rang in Link’s head as he took in Rhett’s disheveled appearance. 

“I’m leaving,” Rhett said.

“Where are we going?” Link asked, confused. They hadn’t planned any adventures for today. It was a school night for goodness sake! Rhett frowned.

“No. Not we. _Me_ ,” he corrected.

Link’s stomach twisted. “What are you talking about?” he asked, voice wavering only slightly. Had he done something to upset Rhett? Link wracked his mind going through everything that had happened in the past few days. There was nothing. At least, nothing Link could think of.

Rhett picked up his bulging backpack and threw it over his shoulder. His expression was impassive, his eyes steel gray and hard.

“I’m leaving Buies Creek. For good,” he said evenly as if it wasn’t the craziest thing he’d ever uttered. “I came to say goodbye.” His mask cracked slightly and a flash of sorrow flashed across his face. His breath hitched and Link watched him grind his teeth together as he swallowed hard.

“G—goodbye?” Link stuttered, his voice thin and his heart hammered painfully as he tried to make some kind of sense of the situation.

“Yeah. Didn’t wanna go without—” Rhett paused to draw in a sharp breath. “Without telling you.”

“Is this a joke? You know that we still have three weeks left before summer vacation?” Link reminded, hoping against hope that it was Rhett who was confused here.

“I know that!” Rhett snapped. Link jerked back and felt the tell-tale prickle of tears. His hands balled into fists. He was not going to cry.

“Don’t yell at me,” he hissed at Rhett, trying to hide his hurt behind a frown. 

Rhett’s face fell and he stepped forward, lifting his arm to touch Link. Link didn’t move but his stomach flipped. But then Rhett seemed to change his mind, and his arm dropped back to his side. 

“I’m sorry. I—” Rhett muttered, nervously thumbing the strap of the backpack.

“Whatever,” Link huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning away. Rhett’s shoulders slumped and his gaze dropped down onto the grass.

“I told them. Dad threw me out,” he said quietly.

Link closed his eyes tightly, trying to process the words.

“You told what?” he asked when the riddle of Rhett’s confession turned out to be too much for him to solve.

“You know…” Rhett said, kicking at a stone. He was still staring at the ground, but his ears were bright red. 

“I don’t think I do,” Link said, frustrated. What could Rhett be talking about? What on Earth could he have said to his father for him to…?

“Come on! Don’t make me say it. That I’m… you know!” Rhett huffed, voice tight, glancing around the empty graveyard like he was afraid that someone might hear them.

Link shook his head. “No. I don’t.”

Rhett watched him for a beat, frowning. Then his eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bopped. 

“I thought you knew… I was sure you’d—” Rhett whispered, before continuing. “Link, I’m gay.”

 _Gay._ The word was like a cuss, making Link twitch and gasp. Rhett’s expression turned sour. The steely gaze returned and he threw his leg over his bike and hopped on the seat. “So, yeah... As you can imagine I can’t stay here.”

Link stood stock-still, trying to wrap his mind around the new information. _Rhett is gay. Rhett likes boys. Rhett wants to kiss boys. Wants to do things to boys and have boys do things to him. Oh my god._ A sudden thought made Link faintly nauseous. 

“Have you—Have you had a boyfriend?” The words ripped out of him with force powerful enough to make his throat feel scratchy.

Rhett huffed out a dry laugh and rolled his eyes. “Of course, not.”

The relief that flooded Link was like dunking into the cool river on a hot summer day. 

“I have no one,” Rhett muttered bitterly, staring into the distance.

Link’s lips pressed into a tight line and his brows threaded together. “Don’t be daft. You’ve always got me!” 

Rhett’s head snapped back to him. His eyebrows rose. His voice was soft and wary when he asked, “really?”

Link scoffed. “Of course! You’re my—” He paused, not entirely sure what to say. Best friend? Brother? Partner? All of the above? And maybe… Link tried not to think too hard on that just yet—it was way too scary—but there was a warmth in his belly that couldn’t be explained away by the warm May evening.

He finally settled on, “you’re my bo.”

A small smile crept onto Rhett’s face and Link felt his cheeks flushing.

“And you’re not gonna run away. Not alone, at least,” Link said, now determined.

“No?”

“No. You can come home with me. Mama won’t mind. We’re gonna finish high school and…” Link tilted his head, thinking. “And then we can go together. How does San Francisco sound?”

“I was thinking of L.A.,” Rhett said, sounding almost shy. His smile was wide enough to show teeth—a rarity. Link smiled back and got on his bike.

“Follow me,” he hollered over his shoulder, pedaling towards the gates.

Rhett’s reply came too late and too quiet for Link to hear. 

“Anywhere.”


	17. Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: merman!Rhett, human!Link, longing

The sky turned from light blue to faint pink as Charles slowly walked down the path. It had been a warm summer day, but the air never got uncomfortably hot on the island because of the ocean. A cool evening wind blew from the north-west and Charles pulled his cardigan tighter as he walked down the rugged stone steps to get to the little private beach.

He kicked off his shoes and sunk his feet into the sand. It was surprisingly cold and the sensation made him wince. The bay didn’t get much direct sunlight during the day due to the surrounding cliffs so the sand was rarely too hot to walk on like at the other side of the island. Charles had gone there a couple of times. He’d sat on a fold-able lounger with his feet buried in the sun-soaked sand and watched the other people enjoying the amenities. The kids running around and screaming with delight. The teenagers on vacation, playing games and sneaking beers. The couples walking hand in hand along the shoreline. Charles had hoped he could somehow soak up the atmosphere, saturate himself with the happiness of others, but all the joy and laughter had only made him feel more removed from the world.

The sky turned from pink to orange as Charles settled onto his usual waiting spot. The rock was coarse under his palms and he closed his eyes, attempting to ground himself. The waves crashed to shore and receded with a swoosh.

Charles didn’t dare to hope, so he merely listened to the sound of the waves and watched the sun sink lower and lower towards the horizon.

The one he waited rarely came anymore. It had been months since the last time. Maybe he had better things to do. Maybe he no longer craved Charles’ company like Charles craved his. That was probably it. His curiosity was sated. The human that spoke his language was no longer the novelty he’d been in the beginning. It made sense. But sometimes Charles wondered if he didn’t come anymore because it was harder for him to come and leave than to stay away altogether. 

Charles still came every evening. He’d watched the sunset from his rocky sitting place so many times that it should’ve lost all of its appeal. But it hadn’t. Every evening was different. Different weather, different colors, different mood—and another chance to see _him_.

The sky turned from orange to dark purple as he waited. He stared between the waves and waited. There was only a thin, bright sliver of sun left above the horizon when he rose and stretched his numb limbs. He tried to ignore the press behind his eyes, the tightening around his chest. Another night, another disappointment. Well, he hadn’t hoped, right? He couldn’t be disappointed if he never hoped.

With stiff legs, he started his trek back up the hill. He was already at the steps when a familiar splash of water stopped him. Charles stood still, waiting, heart hammering in his chest as a swell of hope swallowed him whole.

“Going so soon, dirt dweller?” The voice was as eerie as it had been the first time Charles had heard it. It was like the waves hitting the rocks, humming and swishing, and morphing without rhyme or reason. But by now it was so familiar that Charles knew enough to hear the smile in it. He turned.

The merman had lifted himself halfway onto the rock. His tail glistened in the last light of the setting sun. One time Charles had tried to count all of its different hues of green and blue. The merman had laughed at him and said it was impossible. He’d been right.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” Charles said, trying hard not to show how much the words hurt him. With a lying smile, he walked back to the rock. The merman tilted his head, studying him with curious eyes.

Charles sat gingerly across from him, drinking in the vision that was his face before he lost the light to do so. His eyes were gray tonight. Sometimes they were green. Once they’d been black—the only time Charles had been afraid of him. He pushed the memory away; now was not the time to dwell on it.

“Have I been gone long?” the merman asked, sorrow dripping from him like the droplets of water that made star maps onto the fabric of Charles’ light blue jeans.

“Not too long,” Charles assured—the lie was an easy one. No time was too long if he eventually returned.

The merman lifted his hand, long fingers spreading for a beat, giving Charles a peek of the see-through webbing that stretched between them. He closed his eyes when the cold, slippery fingers brushed softly along his jaw.

“I missed you,” the merman whispered. Even his breath was cool, Charles noted before their lips pressed lightly together. Charles wrapped himself around the being that haunted his dreams, that filled his mind day and night and made him something other, not part of the other seven billion people living above the sea level. He held on tight and opened himself up to the merman’s exploring tongue. 

“So warm. Always so warm,” the merman purred against Charles’ lips. “You know that’s why I come? Because you make my heart warm.”

“You make my heart warm, too,” Charles whispered, gasping as the cold fingers slipped under his shirt, making him shiver.

The merman frowned. “I’m cold. How could I ever make you warm?” 

Charles ignored the question and dove for another freezing kiss that set his insides on fire.

“Take me with you,” he panted yet again when it was time and the merman slipped down from the rock. And like always, the merman smiled sadly and shook his head.

“I can’t. You know that.”

Charles swallowed down a sob and nodded.

“Smile for me, sand man. One more time,” the merman pleaded. Charles took a deep breath and forced the corners of his mouth up. The merman pressed a palm onto his own chest and sighed deeply. “ _So warm._ ”

Only after the merman had disappeared below the waves would Charles let his tears fall.


	18. "Don't cry"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: alternative universe, arguing

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Don’t cry. You know I hate it when you cry.” 

“I’m sorry,” Link whispered. He felt like he’d been thrown into ice-cold water—his body was stiff and every breath was a struggle.

“Stop that. Like you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t,” Link said with a sniffle, blinking hard as his vision turned misty. The man in front of him huffed and threw his hands in the air in frustration.

“We haven’t had sex in like three weeks! That didn’t tip you off?!”

“I mean… I knew you were stressed with exams and stuff. I just thought—” Link mumbled, wiping his runny nose onto his sleeve. 

The eye roll was like a stab to his gut.

“Wow. You really are as clueless as I thought. You know, at first, it was kinda cute. How naive you were, but man…”

“Please, can we talk about this? I can— I can be better. I can try harder,” Link begged, getting up to go to him, but the disgust on his face made Link’s shoulders slump. 

“It’s just… It’s over, Link. I’m—” He sighed. “I’m gonna go out. Get your shit packed and be out by the time I get back.”

Link’s stomach twisted and a new swell of tears fought its way out. 

“Are you coming back with—with _him_?” Link asked, his voice trembling as he jutted out his chin and squared his shoulders. The thought of _them_ in their bed—in the bed Link had spent the better part of the last year—made Link physically ill.

He sighed and gave Link a condescending look. “That’s not really your business anymore, is it?”

Link’s hands balled into fists, his fingernails burrowing painfully into his skin. “Really?! So, that’s it?! A goddamn year together and this is how you end it?!” His voice was rising and the thrum in his ears was turning into a buzz.

“I have no interest in fighting with you anymore. It’s. Over.”

“Anymore?! We never fight! You just… leave!” Link spat.

“Yeah, because you are impossible! You’re like… It’s like dating a fucking chick. All the talking. Yap, yap, yap. Feelings and emotions and _what are you thinking right now_ … Ugh. You were an amazing fuck. I’ll give you that. But even _that_ can’t make up for all that other bullshit anymore. Be out by eleven.”

Link stood there, mouth hanging open, the buzz in his ears almost deafening.

“But—” he managed to whisper before the door closed with a slam. “…I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he continued with a quiet whimper and slumped on the floor. 

Link finally let the tears flow freely. He pulled his knees up and against his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, hugging himself in a vain effort of self-soothing as the sobs wracked his body.

He had no friends in this town. No one to turn to. He’d come here for _him_. To be with him. He’d upended his whole life because he thought they were in love. How could he have been so wrong? The pain in his chest was overwhelming and Link growled, attempting to release it somehow. He buried his face in his palms and swayed on the floor, trying to figure out what to do next.

A soft knock on the door pulled him out of his spiraling.

“Go away,” Link muttered. “He’s not here!” he said louder after they knocked again. The only people coming to their place— _his_ place—were his friends and family. But the knocking persisted and finally, Link dragged himself up. He yanked the door open with an angry pull and growled a sharp “what?!”

The tall man standing behind the door jerked back with wide eyes and Link immediately felt bad. And embarrassed. He probably looked like hell, eyes red and puffy, his hair a mess. Link wiped his face on his sleeve again, ignoring the smear of snot he left on it. 

“I’m—I’m sorry. I heard yelling and… I’ll go, sorry,” the man said and backed up, palms in the air. Link had seen him in the hallway and around the campus. He was hard not to miss with how tall he was. He had this shy smile. It always made Link feel light and giggly. The man was a quiet one. Always polite and sweet, but never one to hold onto a conversation. Link had tried a few times, but he always seemed to be in a hurry to get away. But then again, Link thought, who wouldn’t be, since apparently, he was such an annoying blabbermouth.

“No, I’m sorry,” Link said. “I didn’t mean to… I thought it was someone else.”

“Oh,” the man said.

“I’m sorry about the noise. He’s—he’s gone now. So, no more yelling,” Link assured with a tight smile.

“I don’t care about the noise. I— I just wanted to see if you were…” the man stammered, blushing fiercely. “If you were okay.” 

Link stood in the doorway and stared up into his eyes. Such pretty eyes. He looked genuinely concerned.

“Oh.”

“So, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you okay?” he softly asked again. 

His voice was so sincere that Link couldn’t help it. The tears burst out again and he let out a shuddering sob and a quiet “no.”

Suddenly, there were strong arms around him, wrapping him up into a comforting warmth. A large palm rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles.

“It’s okay. Everything will work out. I promise.” Whispered words tickled Link’s ear and he clung to the man holding him and let out all the pain and disappointment he felt.

“Wanna come over to my place for a bit? I’ll make you some tea. You can sleep on my couch if you need to,” the man asked after Link’s sobs had quieted to small sniffles.

“Okay,” Link said, feeling slightly dazed. A warm hand pulled him down the hallway.

“I’m Rhett, by the way,” the man said, turning to look at him over his shoulder, smiling that shy smile that made Link shiver in the best possible way.

“Hi, Rhett. I’m Link.”


	19. Puzzle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switch-up week! I wrote fluff for a change. ^^
> 
> Tags: never met before, library AU

Link was shelving books when he saw the man again. His hand stopped mid-air, the hefty memoir in his grasp inches away from its rightful place. Link’s gaze followed the tall frame as it weaved through the lower bookshelves of the magazine section towards the back. The man moved carefully, thoughtfully even, as if every movement of his body was preplanned and approved by some kind of lengthy internal process. His shoulders hunched, bunching up the winter coat he always wore. It was brown and long, patched in places and worn from years of wear and tear. It was obviously loved and cared for. His hair was tucked under a woolen, knitted cap, a few dirty blond curls escaping, framing his bearded face and down-turned eyes. He looked wary, someone might have even said scared.

Haphazardly, Link stuck the memoir into the wrong shelf. He pushed his creaky, little book cart towards the desks at the corner of the small library where people read newspapers and students sometimes sat with their laptops and trendy drinks from a nearby coffee shop. 

The man was sitting in his usual seat at the farthest table. Link moved slowly towards him, picking up books from his cart without looking and setting them onto the shelves without a thought. 

The man had been coming for a few months now. Every day, he came an hour or two after the library opened and he stayed until closing time. He always left fifteen minutes before Link made his evening rounds, telling his patrons he was about to close up. They’d never talked. The man had barely glanced at Link, but Link couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He didn’t know why exactly. Was it the impressive height? Link wasn’t used to someone towering above him. Was it the quiet, calm demeanor that somehow managed to soothe Link’s busy mind? Or was it the long, slender fingers that sometimes moved like the man was conducting a symphony in his mind? Whatever it was, Link was fascinated—if not a bit infatuated.

The table was perfectly sized for one of the bigger puzzles the library had. Link knew that the man had asked Betty, Link’s co-worker, if he could solve the puzzle there instead of loaning it. Betty had been more than happy to accommodate the man and she’d gushed to Link how polite he was and how lovely his shy, little smile had been when Betty helped him move the smallest table into the corner so he could work on the puzzle in peace.

The man worked at a snail’s pace. Every day, he stared at the pieces, his fingers occasionally hovering in the air like he was about to pick one up before they fell again. He usually managed to put down only a couple of pieces. Link had a hunch that the pace was leisurely on purpose, not because he couldn’t find the right pieces. The man seemed to be lost in his thoughts more often than not. Betty and Link had made their mission not to let anyone mess up his progress. More than once, Link had had to shoo away a curious kid or an annoyed middle-aged patron who thought that it was unfair that the puzzle took up one whole table. After an incident with a kid throwing a tantrum had left some of the pieces lying on the floor, Link made a habit of taking a picture of the puzzle every night. That way he could repair the damage if something should happen.

That day, the man was sitting still, hands in his pockets, staring out the window. It was snowing outside. Link stuck another book into a wrong shelf and watched as the man brought his hands up to his face and blew between his palms to warm them. Link’s heart stuttered. He left the cart and hurried into the little employee room behind the check-out counter. 

He returned to the public area with a large mug of scalding hot tea. With mysteriously shaky legs, he stopped next to the table. The man turned to look at him, gaze curious and warm.

“Hi,” Link attempted to say and coughed when the word got caught in his throat.

“Hello.” The reply was tentative and the man tilted his head, obviously waiting for Link to continue and explain his presence. Link stared into the moss-green eyes and was, inexplicably, at a loss for words.

“Am I bothering you somehow?” the man asked, his features turning from curious to worried. 

“Oh, no!” Link said, too loud and too fast, but happy that he’d managed to find his voice again. “I— Um… I made some tea for myself and— I thought… Well, I just saw you here and I made a cup for you. I mean— I don’t even know if you like tea? I could— um, yeah, ha! I could make some coffee, too, if that’s more like—” Link babbled, the mug of tea trembling in his hands. 

The man’s eyes widened and he glanced at the mug.

“You made me tea?” he asked in quiet surprise, with twinkling eyes that threatened to rip Link’s breath straight from his lungs. He nodded. The man took the mug carefully, his big hands wrapping around it as if it was a precious artifact. Link slipped his hands away slowly, lingering in the touch of his fingers.

“I love tea,” the man whispered, staring into the cup, smiling an incredulous smile. His gaze snapped back to Link. “Thank you.”

Link felt a heated blush creeping up to his cheeks.

“No problem. It was— I— Heh, it was no trouble, you know,” Link stammered, heart hammering in his chest.

The man set the mug on the table and offered Link his hand. 

“I’m Rhett.” 

Link took the hand and shook it.

“Link,” he managed to croak before the intense gaze of Rhett’s eyes forced him to look away. “I gotta— Enjoy the… Anyway— Bye!”

With that, Link turned on his heels and escaped. At the employee room, he leaned against the wall and pressed his palm on his chest, drawing a deep breath. His chest was tight, his heart felt bigger—as if it was making room for someone new, for someone special. 


	20. Bus Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: homophobia, happy ending

The first morning Rhett wasn’t on the bus was excruciating. No one talked to Link. No one sat on the seats around him. He was an outcast. A pariah. As if a few feet of space could protect his peers from the depravity that was a boy loving a boy. Despite the distance, Link felt everyone’s eyes on him—the few kinder folks laid a pitying gaze on him, but most could barely hide their disgust. He tried to ignore the sideways glances, curios questions, and hushed answers, gossip and truth mingling into something that would be soon part of their town’s history. It was no use to try to correct their misconceptions. Everyone would believe what they wanted to believe. And everyone seemed to believe what he and Rhett did was wrong.

The fourth morning Rhett wasn’t on the bus was just plain weird. The previous day, Sarah Fosters had announced her pregnancy and suddenly, that was what everyone talked about. No one knew who the father was, but everyone had a guess. The mood was different, too. There were palms slapped over mouths to contain giggles. There were conversations conducted purely in shouts over multiple seats. The excitement over the scandalous news was clear as day. No one whispered. Even the judgment they laid upon her was softer somehow, more forgiving. It ate at Link’s insides. Made him feel raw and confused. Rhett had only kissed him. One soft peck, lips barely touching, fingers entangled under the blanket, soft breaths mingled in the cover of darkness—that hadn’t actually offered as much cover as they’d thought. How was one simple kiss worse than a teenage pregnancy? 

The eleventh morning Rhett wasn’t on the bus someone sat next to Link. She sat on the edge of the seat, turned her back to Link, and started talking with her friend across the aisle. Link stared at her long blond hair, flowing down her back in soft waves. A sudden rush of possessive anger engulfed him. That was not her seat. That was Rhett’s seat. That’s where Rhett was supposed to sit. Not her. Never her. Even the empty seat had been better than someone claiming it so carelessly. Link’s fingers itched with the need to push her away. It was like the ghost of Rhett, the lingering feel of him next to Link was now marred by her sickly sweet perfume and sharp voice. She was erasing Rhett from the seat and Link’s heart could only take so much abuse. Nevertheless, Link gritted his teeth together and did nothing. 

The twenty-first morning Rhett wasn’t on the bus was when it started to feel normal. Link sat down in his usual seat and for the briefest of moments, the empty one next to him didn’t make his heart ache. And every morning after that the moment stretched longer and longer until finally, the empty seat only elicited a small stab of pain if at all and someone claiming it barely got a notice from him. Link fought hard to keep his indignant anger and hurt alive, but he couldn’t help his adaptive brain from slowly pushing away the painful thoughts, filling the space with math problems, new songs he’d heard, and bible passages they were studying. Link made sure to think of Rhett as much as he could, but it was almost impossible not to let the normal flow of life take up more and more space. 

The fortieth morning Rhett wasn’t on the bus someone asked Link a question. It was something completely ordinary. Later, Link couldn’t even remember what it was exactly. Something about homework maybe. What made it remarkable, though, was the fact that it was asked at all and that it was asked so casually. Since Rhett was sent away, a different person had sat next to Link each morning—no one wanted to sit next to him long enough to arouse suspicions of camaraderie. People barely spoke to him and definitely didn’t initiate if they could help it. In a twisted way, it had been comforting for Link. He’d felt cocooned in his sorrow, somehow separate from the world around him—the world that had ripped Rhett right from his arms.

Six, long months after Rhett was hauled up by his father’s rough hands from the spare mattress he’d been sharing with Link in secret, Link stepped on the bus again, as he did each morning. He walked up to his seat, nose in his book, trying to get some last-minute reading done before the exam that day. To his surprise, his feet collided with a pair of sneakers already occupying the space he’d grown accustomed to seeing empty. Link lifted his gaze from the worn shoes to a face, smiling shyly.

“Hey there, goober. Did’ya miss me?”

Link forgot how to breathe. His heart ached as it thumped wildly against his rib cage. Time seemed to slow down as Rhett stood and made room for Link to sit by the window. Not letting him out of his sight—afraid that the apparition might be gone if he looked away even for a second—Link carefully sat down and watched in awe as the seat beside him was claimed by its rightful owner.

“You’re back?” Link said, voice cracking as his eyes welled. 

“I’m back,” Rhett said and reached for Link’s hand. Their fingers intertwined, hidden from the view of the prying eyes around them.

“For good?” Link confirmed, hope making his head spin.

“For good,” Rhett promised.

If there had been words in existence to describe the joy Link felt when Rhett’s warm hand squeezed his, he’d have written them down and tattooed them into his skin. But there were no words. Only feeling. Only happiness and hope for another bus ride that he might get to spend with Rhett by his side. 


	21. Peach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: leaked sex tape, forced coming out

_Rhett Gets A Taste Of Link’s Sweet Peach!! XXX - HOT STEAMY AMATEUR SEX INTERNETAINERS EXPOSED_

Link stared at the laptop screen. He blinked a few times, eventually screwing his eyes tightly closed, hoping that he was dreaming. But when he opened his eyes the title of the post remained the same, the capitalized letters mocking him with their ridiculousness.

“Rhett,” Link croaked. He’d meant to call out to him. Rhett was working in the loft, the quiet tap-tap of his typing had been the calming soundtrack of Link’s morning. All that calm was gone now, replaced by ever-increasing panic.

“Rhett,” Link tried again but only managed to make himself choke on the attempt. His gaze moved from the shocking headline to the video below it. There was no question that it was them, that it was _their_ video. On the still image, Link was on his hands and knees on the bed and Rhett was behind him, spreading apart his ass cheeks. Rhett was topless, his back muscles tense and beautiful, his shoulders broad and familiar. He still had jeans on. Link’s head hung loosely between his arms—he knew he’d been quietly begging for Rhett to make him wet, to taste him—and his back was arched in invitation. 

Link’s chest tightened and his head swam. Horror and arousal warred in his mind.

“Rhett!” Finally, his garbled yell reached the man working above him. Rhett’s head popped over the railing.

“What?” He looked worried.

Link motioned towards the screen. “They have— The thing we— I—” Link stammered and his hands flailed in frustration. Rhett’s head disappeared and Link heard the low thumps of his descending feet. He appeared behind Link to peer at the screen.

“What the fuck?” Rhett’s voice was low and full of disgust.

Link’s stomach churned and a tiny part of him was afraid that Rhett would be mad at him. It had been him after all, who’d wanted to film the video, who’d begged and whined weeks before Rhett gave in.

“How the fuck did someone get that?” Rhett growled.

“I don’t know,” Link whispered, even though Rhett was clearly not expecting an answer. Rhett’s hand was gripping Link’s shoulder. The hold was tight, but not painfully so. Link wanted to squirm under his touch. He wanted to yell and cry and rage. He wanted Rhett to move that hand and bend him over the desk and fuck him right here in the office until neither of them remembered their names, let alone the video that was about to ruin their lives.

“Can we get that down? We need to call Stevie.”

“No!” Link cried, twisting away from Rhett’s touch to get up. 

“We can’t— She can’t see that!” Link was pacing, hand in his hair, eyes looking blindly at the floor as he imagined their employees seeing the video. Their parents. Their— No!

“Rhett. Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god. What are we gonna do? What— How— Oh, god,” Link murmured over and over again, tugging at his hair and breathing shallow, fast breaths. He was starting to feel dizzy. 

Rhett’s phone rang. Link’s phone started ringing right after and emails started to ding into his mail folder. 

This was real. It was out. There was no stopping this. When something was on the Internet, it was never gone. They were exposed—in more ways than one. 

Link had thought about this day. Of course, he had. They’d known that at some point, someone would find out that the friendship had turned into something more. Something better. Something that made Link’s insides warm and his mouth water and his heart beat faster. Something that made him regret the years spent together but apart. But he’d always thought it would happen at least somewhat on their terms. They’d come out slowly, without much fanfare. It would be organic and easy and… And _definitely_ not this. Not Rhett rimming and fucking him captured on video for all the world to see. 

A pang of jealousy coursed through him. Rhett was his. That tall, perfect body. Those soft, wild curls and that cute, small butt and that thick, gorgeous cock. They were all his and only his. Only _he_ should be able to enjoy them. 

“Link,” Rhett’s low voice penetrated Link’s panicked haze. Link stopped pacing when a broad chest filled his vision. Link clung to him. It was a reflex, something his body naturally did when Rhett was that close. Rhett’s arms wrapped around him and squeezed.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Rhett murmured into Link’s ear. Link let out a desperate, wet chuckle. He hadn’t realized he’d started crying. Rhett moved them to the couch and sat down, pulling Link onto his lap.

“Everyone can see us,” Link said softly, swallowing down sobs. Rhett’s fingers were in Link’s hair, petting him, soothing the burn of embarrassment and regret.

“Well, yes. The invasion of privacy is… not ideal. But it’s not that bad, baby. You look gorgeous. So fucking sexy. Everyone’s gonna be so jealous that I get to do those things to you. That I get to feel you and taste you and be inside you when you fall apart.” 

Link buried his face into the crook of Rhett’s neck and tried not to smile. The blush on his cheeks was as fierce as the love he felt for the man who was holding him. “No. Everyone’s gonna be jealous that I get to have _you_. That I get to be the one you touch and take care of. That I get to be the one who gets to take that deliciously thick cock you hide in those ridiculously long-legged pants.” Link’s smiling lips were on Rhett’s skin, pressing small kisses onto it as he spoke. The heaviness in his chest was easing.

“I love you,” Rhett whispered. “And it’s time for the whole world to know it.” A heated kiss silenced Link’s response.

The door of the office banged open and Link whipped his head around to see who was interrupting their moment. Stevie stood at the door and smirked.

“Oh, I see how it is. Here I was, all worried about you guys and rushing here to strategize. But you two are already gearing up for part two, the electric boogaloo.”

They looked at each other, smiled softly, gave her the finger, and then ignored her in favor of more kisses. 

The strategy could wait. The world could wait. They simply couldn’t.


	22. “I can’t sleep. Can I stay here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: just before college!rhink, (verbal) fighting, hopeful ending

They fought all the time. They bickered about things that didn’t matter. They snapped at each other when they were in a foul mood. They got into heated debates that escalated into shouting matches. Rhett didn’t mind the fighting. He actually loved riling Link up, making him puff and sputter, making him square his shoulders and straighten his back as if that could make up the inches Rhett had on him. And when Link’s eyes darkened and his cheeks flushed it made something in Rhett’s belly simmer pleasantly.

So, they fought all the time. But not like this. Not with harsh words ground out with clenched teeth. Not with unshed tears sparkling in the corners of their eyes. 

They fought, yes. But they also always made up. Always went to sleep only after the fight was buried under awkward looks and shuffling feet and quiet suggestions of “so, swimming tomorrow?” They didn’t apologize. They never said they’d been wrong. They never acknowledged the fights afterward. They just moved on. They knew they could because they knew nothing could break the bond that they’d forged. A bond made of years of laughter and acceptance and dreams and understanding. A bond so strong they’d turned it from intangible to physical—signed it in their blood. 

Frustrated, Rhett turned over in his bed, dragging the sheets with him. On damp and hot nights like this, his sweaty skin always got stuck on the bedding. He kicked and squirmed until he managed to wriggle free. His deep sigh filled the room and stayed there, hanging in the air, slowly suffocating him.

_You’re just gonna go then? Just like that?_

Link’s words from earlier looped in Rhett’s mind. He listened to Link’s voice get higher and higher as he got more worked up. He played the words over and over again like a car crash you couldn’t look away from. He examined his own words, picked them apart, studied them, changed the order of words and the cadence of his voice, and imagined a different end result.

_Why shouldn’t I go? It’s a full ride. It would be stupid to turn that down, right?_

The hurt in Link’s eyes was still tying Rhett’s stomach into painful knots. He turned on his back and stared at the ceiling, trying to see anything but the pain in his best friend’s eyes. 

_Link, be reasonable. We’re adults now. We have to— have to act like…_

Rhett’s stomach turned and not for the first time that night, he wondered if he was going to throw up. What on Earth had prompted him to say that? Even as the words had tumbled out, his mind had been screaming for him to stop.

 _Like adults, huh?_ Wow. _Never thought you’d become like_ him _. Never thought I’d see the day when you parroted your father’s words back to me._

He knew he shouldn’t have gotten angry at Link then. After all, he was the one that said the words. But here’s where it all started to go wrong.

_Whatever. He’s right. We’re not kids anymore, we have to think about our future. And basketball could be my future. I know it’s far away but—_

Link shook his head as if Rhett had said something ridiculous. He’d stepped towards Rhett, pleading with his eyes. His voice had been so quiet.

 _I thought we agreed— I thought we— Rhett,_ the oath _._

Rhett closed his eyes and winced at the words he’d said next. Words he didn’t mean. 

_We were fifteen! You can’t expect me to give up a potential future as an athlete because we made a silly oath at fifteen!_

It was like he’d punched Link. His body gave out, crumbled in front of Rhett’s widening eyes.

 _Silly?_ Silly?! _I— That was our promise. That was our— Are you saying it wasn’t real?_

Rhett smacked the bed with both of his fists and kicked his legs in a vain effort to release the tension in his body. When it didn’t help, he turned over, pressed his face into the pillow, and screamed.

_If you want me to stay, just say it! Don’t use some shit we did as kids as an excuse!_

The shift in Link’s expression from disbelief to disgust had made Rhett jerk away. It was like a slap to his face. 

_Fuck. Off. Go play basketball. Go be a good, little daddy’s boy. Go be boring and weak and—_

Rhett groaned and tasted his own sweat on the pillow. He turned his head to the side and bit back the sob.

_Boring and weak? Really? Fuck you! If it weren’t for me you’d never even leave your Mama’s house!_

Rhett tried not to think about Link’s face. Tried not to remember how Link had looked at him before he turned his back on him and walked away without saying another word. That look had crushed Rhett. With that look, Link had ripped a piece of Rhett’s soul and taken it with him. Rhett grabbed his chest, trying to hold down the pain, trying to plug the leak, trying to fill out the hollow left there by Link’s wordless departure.

He’d only been trying to get Link to say it. He’d wanted Link to ask him. He’d wanted Link to want him to stay. He’d been an idiot. _A coward._

A small sound drew Rhett’s attention. Hope filling his chest, he turned quickly and saw another little pebble hitting the glass. With his heart suddenly racing, Rhett rolled out of bed and ran to the window. A dark, familiar figure stood in the front yard.

Rhett was downstairs in seconds. Link was already at the door when Rhett yanked it open. They stared at each other for a beat.

“I’m sorry,” they said at the same time. Their awkward laughter died down quickly, but the hint of a smile that stayed on Link’s lips made Rhett’s heart flutter. 

Link’s gaze flitted away. Even in the darkness, Rhett could see his cheeks flushing as he said:

“I can’t sleep. Can I stay here?”

That was the night that changed everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22257370/chapters/69958956).


	23. Nature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: soulmate AU

“What if she hates the outdoors?” 

Link rolled his eyes at his best friend. At his back to be more precise. Rhett was walking ahead of Link, the uneven terrain of the trail crunching under his worn hiking boots. Even though Rhett had no way of seeing the annoyed gesture, he knew Link too well because he huffed and continued: “She might!”

“She won’t. Because if she did, she wouldn’t be your soulmate,” Link said, not bothering to hide his exasperation. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. Rhett’s nineteenth birthday was only days away and for the past few weeks, he’d been getting increasingly anxious about the revelation of his mark. Most people got theirs on their seventeenth or eighteenth birthday, but some people had to wait until they turned nineteen. Rhett was one of the unlucky few.

So was Link. At least, that’s what everyone in his life thought. 

“Maybe I’ll stop liking outdoorsy stuff when I get older,” Rhett offered, making Link laugh and shake his head.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You love everything about nature. It’s in your blood. No amount of growing up will take that from you.”

“I guess,” Rhett said, stopping abruptly enough that Link almost walked into him. “Water break,” he announced and bounced on top of a huge rock next to the trail. He turned around and offered his hand for Link. Link frowned and batted it away. 

“I can climb onto a rock,” he muttered, frowning and scampered up the rough surface. Rhett shrugged and sat down, facing away from the trail. Link settled next to him and dug out his water bottle. 

The view was amazing. It wasn’t hard to see why the trail was so popular. The wilderness sprawling below was awe-inspiring. The lush green of the trees mingled with the sparkling blue of the river winding through the valley. Mountains surrounded the lowland, offering a beautifully stark contrast to the liveliness of the valley. But Link couldn’t concentrate on the vistas. 

Rhett’s bare shin was leaning against Link’s. His skin was hot against Link’s and it made Link wonder about other parts of Rhett, parts that were currently clothed, parts that didn’t belong to Link, but were on Link’s mind every night when he went to bed and tried not to touch himself. Most of the nights, he failed, coming with desperate, spit-slicked strokes into his own fist, imagining Rhett’s hand in the place of his own.

Link closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the refreshing taste of water as he gulped it down. He knew he needed to get a grip. He needed to ignore the innocent touch of Rhett’s leg and stop thinking about how much he wanted to turn and kiss Rhett’s sun-chapped lips. He wanted to enjoy the time they were spending together—just the two of them. Soon, it would be over. Soon, Rhett would have someone else in his life. Someone better. Someone more suited for him. Someone he would love and cherish and spend the rest of his life with. 

Rhett nudged him. Link startled and turned to look at him.

“Are you even listening to me?” 

“Sorry. What did you say?” Link asked sheepishly, capping his bottle. Rhett turned his gaze back into the horizon and swallowed. He was absentmindedly scratching the seam of his cargo shorts.

“I was saying… What if it’s not _a she_?”

Link’s heart skipped a beat. “Your— soulmate, you mean?” he asked tentatively, dreading to let himself even hope that Rhett might return his feelings.

“Yeah,” Rhett murmured, looking away. “What would you— How would you feel about that?”

“ _Me?_ ” Link croaked. He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not really my business, is it?” Rhett didn’t answer, so Link continued quietly, heart hammering in his chest. “How would _you_ feel about it?

Rhett took a deep breath and let out a shaky laugh. “I— I don’t know. I think— I think it might be…” Link waited for him to finish. Rhett turned to look at him, his grey-green eyes filled with heavy emotion. “…okay.”

Link let out a breathless laugh. Something was jangling loose inside him and the laughter was the only way he could cope as he slowly started to come undone. Rhett’s face fell as Link’s laughter traveled down the cliffside and Link snapped his mouth shut.

“I didn’t—” he tried to explain himself. “I didn’t mean— Rhett, I’m just…” His mind was in jumbles. Rhett looked away again, letting out a sad little huff.

“Is that so bad? There are same-sex soulmates. Not here in the South that much, I guess. But I hear in the west coast it’s almost normal.”

“You wanna be with a guy?” Link blurted out, his words coming out wrong, too abrupt. But he desperately needed confirmation.

Rhett shifted away and slipped down from the rock. “Forget it,” he said quietly and headed up the trail. Link hurried after him and grabbed his arm.

“No, wait, Rhett! I didn’t—” Link pleaded. Rhett turned and looked at him with down-turned lips.

“I said forget it,” he snapped and tried to pry himself away from Link’s grasp.

“No, look!” Link groaned, yanking the sleeve of his t-shirt up. He rubbed away the make-up he used to cover his mark. A small, blue head of a deer appeared from under heavy smearing of concealer, and Rhett’s body went slack. He stared at the mark, mouth open and eyes wide.

“When—?” he finally asked, lifting his hand to touch Link’s mark.

Link grimaced. “Last year. I— I— God, Rhett, I kinda panicked, okay? When it was blue and not red. And I hid it. But I—”

A small smile was creeping onto Rhett’s face.

“A deer,” he said gently, tracing the intricate horns with his fingertips.

“Yeah,” Link sighed. He loved the deer. It was beautiful. It reminded him of—

“I bet mine’s gonna be a deer too,” Rhett whispered, stepping closer and pressing his lips on Link’s blue-tinted skin.


	24. "Forget it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: angsty smut, not that happy of an ending

Rhett was on his back on his bed. There was a pillow tucked under his lower back. His palms were braced against the wall above him and his hips were rolling like ocean waves—a never-ending motion that couldn’t be stopped. 

Link was on his knees between Rhett’s legs. He was thrusting into Rhett with an animalistic need, one hand gripping on Rhett’s waist, the other wrapped around Rhett’s leg that was propped up against Link’s shoulder.

Rhett’s eyes were closed. It was for self-preservation. He didn’t want to remember Link like this. He wanted to remember Link from few months ago, from the night they’d made love. The night when Link had moved inside him like the tide, like the way they’d joined had been inevitable but still too big to comprehend. Rhett wanted to remember _that_ Link. The Link that whispered sweet words to him. The Link that made Rhett come twice and fell asleep right beside him, their limbs tangled together. He wanted to remember _his_ Link—loving and kind and soft and hopeful. Not this one, not the one that had grown a hard shell around his heart. Not the one that was gonna marry someone else.

The room was filled with Link’s heavy breathing and the moans that slip from Rhett’s lips every time Link’s hard cock brushed against his prostate. He was close to coming. So close. Too close.

_Not yet._

He didn’t want this to be over. It was too soon.

“Slow down,” Rhett begged through a clenched jaw.

Link was not listening.

“ _Please_ , Link.”

“Don’t,” Link grunted. “Don’t say my name when I’m inside you.”

“Please,” Rhett mumbled, staring at the wall. His eyes were blurry. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t cry. The tear squeezing out of the corner of his eye was mocking that empty promise.

“Am I hurting you?” Link huffed, easing just a little bit. Rhett shook his head. It was barely a lie; Link was hurting him, but not in the way he’d meant. Link seemed to believe him though, since he slammed back inside Rhett hard enough to move his body up the bed. They groaned in unison.

“Ah, fuck, you feel so good.” Link’s movements grew more erratic and Rhett knew the signs—he was on the edge of his release.

Rhett kept staring at the wall. His body didn’t care about his inner turmoil, it barreled towards an orgasm as if everything was right in the world. As if it hadn’t been shattered to pieces when he came back from Slovakia.

_“Just this once,” Link had said. “I need to feel you one last time.”_

And Rhett had agreed, because he’d wanted that too. At least, that’s what he’d thought.

“ _Oh God_ , bo! Ah! I’m gonna—”

And suddenly, it was all too much for Rhett. The overwhelming physical sensation of Link stretching him after all this time spent apart was mixing with the gut-wrenching hurt inside him.

“No,” Rhett croaked. “No, stop. I can’t— I need to— _Link, stop_!” Rhett was sobbing and pushing Link away, curling himself into a ball of too long limbs and shattered pieces of his heart.

“Rhett, what’s wrong? Did I—?” The panic in Link’s voice cut Rhett like a knife. There was no need to hurt Link like this. Rhett knew he hurt already. He had to be hurting. Just like Rhett was. But Rhett had reached the end of his rope. He couldn’t fake anymore. Couldn’t act that he was fine with it.

“Go. Please, just go. I can’t…”

Link’s arms wrapped around Rhett’s trembling torso, making him tense all over. 

“But, _baby_ —”

Rhett shook Link away and let out a wounded cry. “I am _not_ your baby! Not anymore. _Never again._ Leave!”

The bed creaked and Rhett heard shuffling and huffs as Link jumped around the room, pulling on clothes.

“ _Fine_. Be that way. See you at the wedding.” The door closed with a slam. And then, all Rhett could do was cry.

—

Ten years later:

A car parked behind a boarded-up grocery store. Two men crammed in a back seat too small for their tall frames. A pleading whimper and a whispered affirmation.

“Need you inside me.”

“Shh, baby. Almost there. I have to— Hey, what are you—?”

“I am not your baby! Don’t you fucking forget it.”

“Calm down, Rhett. It just slipped out.”

“We have rules.”

“I know.”

“I’m not doing this if you can’t follow the rules. You know that.”

“I’m sorry. Can we just forget it? Pretty please. We don’t have much time.”

“Well, can you behave?”

“I can, I promise. Come here. Let me make you feel good.”

The blue of Link’s eyes shone in the low light of the evening. Rhett stared at him, stared at the man he loved and all he wanted to do was scream. Those eyes did things to him. Unexplainable things. 

Sometimes—well, honestly, more often than not —Rhett hated himself for keeping this up. But he’d tried to put a stop to it too many times. He always came back to Link. He couldn’t help himself. Because even if he couldn’t be the one Link was with, he could be the one Link couldn’t live without. And he knew that had to be enough. 

He sighed and moved back to Link’s open arms.

“Fine. Now, shut up and take me.”


	25. Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: probably the fluffiest of my angsty fics

“Well, what do you think?” Link asked, spreading his arms excitedly and doing a theatrical twirl to show his outfit. Rhett felt like picking his jaw up from the floor. Link was wearing jeans booty shorts and a sleeveless white tee with a text “ALLY AF” painted on with huge glittery rainbow letters. Link’s cheeks were adorned with similar glittery splashes of color. 

“You, um… Did you shave your legs?” Rhett asked, staring at the smooth, tanned skin that the tiny shorts left bare. Link’s smile faltered only for a moment. He glanced at his legs.

“Yeah. You don’t like it?”

“Oh, no. I don’t— I mean, it’s not really my—” Rhett stammered, blushing fiercely. He turned around to hide his flushed cheeks and started to rummage through a dresser drawer as if he was looking for something. “Why would I care about your leg hair? I was just wondering,” he muttered. 

“I don’t know. I just felt like… I just felt like doing it,” Link said, sounding hesitant.

“I’m sure you’ll fit right in,” Rhett said, trying to find the courage to say something that would make Link feel better. He hadn’t meant to make him feel bad. He’d just been surprised. They hadn’t talked about dressing up for this. “You look good,” he said lamely, but it seemed to appease Link.

“Thanks! Where are we meeting Stevie and the others?” he asked, walking up to Rhett and jumping to sit on top of the dresser. Rhett slammed the drawer shut and shifted away from Link’s bare legs. He wanted to run his palm along one, wanted to feel the smoothness. And those shorts… _Good god._ They didn’t leave much to imagination. Not that Rhett needed his imagination to know what was under that small piece of fabric.

“Stevie said she’ll text us.”

“When are you getting dressed?” Link asked, reaching to tug at Rhett’s t-shirt. 

“I’m already dressed,” Rhett said flatly, turning to walk away. He got a cold coke from the fridge and gulped half of it down in one go. The heat in his belly refused to simmer down. 

Link followed him into the kitchen and took a long look at Rhett’s gray tee and his everyday jeans. “Really? Rhett, we’re going to a pride event, not to the DMV.”

“I don’t—” Rhett mumbled, moving the can between sweaty palms. He’d been against this whole thing in the first place. There would be thousands of people celebrating pride at the event. And then there would be him. Someone too scared to even tell his best friend that he liked men. That he liked one man in particular. The idea of putting on recognizable LGBTQ+ gear was even more troubling. It was making his stomach tense and his head feel like it was filled with cotton. And the fact he got so anxious about it made him feel ashamed.

Link, on the other hand, was excited about attending their first Pride celebration after moving to L.A. He’d been talking about it with Stevie for weeks, if not months, and his firm stance as an ally was more than clear to everyone in the office and outside of it.

“I’m fine like this,” Rhett said more confidently. “You’re already colorful for the both of us in that get-up.” He flashed Link a forced smile and took another sip of his drink.

Link’s gaze was intense—Rhett felt like a bug under a microscope. He shuffled his feet and fiddled with the can. 

“We don’t have to go,” Link said quietly, leaning against the kitchen island. He was still looking at Rhett, but his gaze was no longer inquisitive. It was soft and searching.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rhett huffed, surprised that Link was even suggesting that. “You’ve been waiting for this for months.”

“True. But it’s because I want my friends to know that I love them no matter what. I want to celebrate a part of them that’s beautiful and valid. I want them to see other people being out and happy and thriving.” It felt like Link’s blue eyes were burrowing into Rhett’s soul.

“I’m sure Stevie knows all that,” Rhett whispered, fighting the tears that threatened to fall. 

“Yeah, I’m sure Stevie knows,” Link said, tilting his head to the side and smiling softly. “But do you?”

Silence. Rhett’s stomach twisted into a knot and panic engulfed him. Link couldn’t know. Right?!

Link kicked away from the island and walked up to Rhett who was standing frozen in place next to the fridge, gripping the can so hard it was starting to crumble. Link gently pried the can away from his death grip and took Rhett’s hands into his own.

“It’s okay, Rhett. Nothing has to change between us. I don’t care who you love.”

 _God, those eyes_. Rhett’s chest tightened as he met Link’s imploring gaze. One lonely tear sprang free and Link reached to wipe it away.

“But what if I want things to chance?” Rhett croaked, voice barely louder than a whisper. 

His heart was hammering, blood rushing in his ears. He felt light-headed. He felt terrified and relieved at the same time. He felt—

He felt a pull on his t-shirt and ducked down. He felt the press of soft, sweet-tasting lips. He felt a warm breath and heard a soft gasp that might have been his own.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Link whispered, their foreheads pressed together, rubbing his nose against Rhett’s. Every fiber of Rhett’s being was vibrating from hesitant joy. This couldn’t be happening...

Rhett’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Stevie with the instructions.

“So, do you want to go?” Link asked.

“With you? _Anywhere,_ ” was Rhett’s answer.


	26. Independence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: cheating, unhappy ending

The horizon was filled with sparkling colors and the air with fizzing and popping sounds. Link sat on a foldable camping chair next to the camper they were renting. He stared at the fireworks lighting up the sky, slowly sipping on his second beer of the night. The chair next to him whined and creaked as a tall figure settled into it.

“We shoulda gotten some fireworks,” Rhett said, cracking open a can. Link made a non-committal hum. He didn’t care for fireworks. They were pretty, sure, but he was always afraid he’d somehow manage to blow up half his face or at least a couple of his fingers. Fireworks had always been more Rhett’s thing. 

“But this is nice too,” Rhett hurried to add. Link frowned. Rhett had been acting strange ever since they left home for their long-awaited “working vacation”. Two whole weeks alone together. No wives, no kids, no employees, no social media. Just writing, brainstorming, and planning. They were one week in and their time had been more than productive. The sequel to Bleak Creek had a plot and even a good handful of the scenes planned. They’d written a new song. It hadn’t been something they’d planned to do, it just sort of happened. That’s how it was when they were together—things just happened. Creative things. Good things.

Bad things too. Forbidden things. Things that haunted Link when he was back in the real world. Not this time though. This time, the ridiculously narrow bed inside that camper was only for the innocent kind of sleeping. 

“Isn’t it?” Rhett asked. Link turned to look at him, startled because for a moment he thought Rhett was commenting on Link’s thoughts. 

“This week?” Rhett clarified when he noticed Link’s expression. “We’ve had fun, right?”

“Yeah, man. It’s been really nice,” Link replied carefully, studying Rhett’s pained expression. He was fiddling with the can, glancing at Link with glossy eyes. There was a question hovering in the air between them, something Link sensed Rhett wanted to ask but was clearly fighting hard not to. 

“It’s been a week, Link,” Rhett huffed finally when the silence had stretched beyond breaking point. Link’s eyebrows shot up.

“It has. And?”

“And you haven’t touched me once.”

“I haven’t— What?” Link tried to wrap his mind around Rhett’s words. It was like he’d spoken in a foreign language.

“What is it? Is it the hair? I know you don’t care for it, but is it really that bad? Don’t you—” Rhett’s words came out in a rush, and his voice broke as he asked: “Don’t you _want_ _me_ anymore?”

Link’s heart broke apart. The raw pain in Rhett’s voice coupled with the sudden intensity of the conversation after days of laid back hanging out made Link’s brain freeze up. He couldn’t think; he couldn’t feel; he couldn’t breathe. 

So, he escaped. The chair banged against the camper and fell over when Link jumped up and started walking. He didn’t pick a direction, nor did he plan for what to do when Rhett would follow him. Because Rhett would follow, he knew that much.

Link stared at his feet as they hit the dry ground, puffing up small dust clouds. It was hot even though it was almost midnight and Link tried wiping the sweat from his forehead with the hand that still held the half-full can he’d somehow forgotten. Annoyed, he gulped it empty and threw the can away, watching it sail through the air and ricochet back towards him from a large boulder. 

The yellow-green glow of fireworks filled the sky and lit up the desert, casting a brief shadow of the boulder on the hard ground. Link felt like walking up to it and curling in its shadow, back against the rough surface—as if he could somehow hide beside it, be protected by its sheer size. 

Link’s heart thudded in his ears and he tasted the earth on his tongue. He tasted Rhett’s pain too—bitter and sharp, like bile rising up his throat. 

The sky darkened and the silence surrounding Link was deafening. He sighed and started towards the can. He didn’t need to be a litterer on top of— A shiver ran through Link. _An adulterer._ The word felt heavy and foreign in his mind, but that’s what he was. That’s what _they were_. 

“This needs to stop,” Link said to the boulder. 

“Link.” Rhett’s low voice startled Link and he jerked around. 

“Jesus! Scared me half to death. Stalk much?” Link mumbled, picked up the can, and shuffled back to the road. He walked past Rhett, heading back towards the camper.

“Sorry, I thought you heard me coming.”

“I didn’t.”

They walked in silence, turning to watch the occasional lone firework brighten up the horizon. When they got back to their temporary home, Link stopped and took hold of Rhett’s arm.

“I—” he started, words lodging into his throat, blocking his airway. 

“It’s okay. I get it,” Rhett said quietly, trying to pull away. Link didn’t let go, instead, in a fit of desperation, he wrapped his arms around Rhett’s waist and buried his face into his neck. Rhett’s body stiffened at first but slowly relaxed into the embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” Link whispered. “I’m sorry I made you think that. That I didn’t want… That I could ever— Jesus, Rhett, I’ll never stop wanting you. I’ll never stop _loving_ you, but—”

“Don’t,” Rhett’s gruff voice interrupted him. “I don’t need to hear it.”

“You do. We both do. It has to stop. This has to stop.”

“I know, Link. Don’t you think I know that?” Rhett sounded angry, his words coming out like stones going into a grinder—choppy and rough. 

“Clearly you don’t since you think I could—”

“No, I get it. I should’ve— I shouldn’t have assumed. My mistake. Now shut up and let me enjoy the Fourth of July with my best friend. Can you do that?”

Link pressed himself closer to Rhett, embedding the feel of his strong arms holding onto him into his memory, making sure he could always remember how they felt slotted together like this.

“Okay,” he said finally, pulling away.

“Okay,” Rhett repeated. They held each other’s gaze for a beat, sharing the hurt, letting themselves be swallowed by it one last time. 

Rhett stepped away and as if nothing monumental had just happened said: “Another beer?” 


	27. "Trust Me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: very light angst with a fluffy ending, also some awkward touching of lady bits

_“It’s gonna be amazing. Trust me.”_

Those had been Rhett’s exact words and they were echoing in Link’s mind as he struggled now, trying to open Betty’s jeans button.

“Do you need help?” she asked, frowning and tilting her head to see between their bodies. Heat rose onto Link’s cheeks and he was almost ready to throw his hat in the ring. For goodness sake, he couldn’t even get this girl’s pants off. How was he supposed to do all the other stuff? Like stuff to her… down there?

“No, I got it,” he mumbled, finally managing to pop open the button. Victory! 

_“It’s so much better than a bj. I swear, like another level.”_

Link hadn’t dared tell Rhett he’d never gotten a blow job either. Betty had offered after their last date, but Link had chickened out and blamed an upset stomach. Sexy, right? 

“Okay, this is going nowhere. For Christ’s sake, let me,” Betty huffed, annoyed at Link’s fumbling and quickly wiggled herself out of her tight jeans. Link’s cheeks grew even hotter. He was fucking this up. He’d known he would.

“Sorry,” he said. “Maybe we should just—”

“It’s fine, sugar. Come on now, gimme your hand,” Betty said, winking playfully and pursed her lips. Link smacked a kiss there, feeling again like he was surely doing something wrong. Why didn’t kissing feel like… like it apparently should feel?

_“Do you ever just make out for hours? Like, isn’t that the best?”_

Link had nodded to Rhett. Of course, he did. Definitely, the best. Rhett’s eyes had been dreamy and he’d made a noise with his throat that had made Link feel tingly all over. Link didn’t really get it—kissing. It was awkward and wet and there were teeth to be worried about and, ugh, germs.

“Doesn’t that feel nice?” Betty purred, pulling Link into the present. He startled. His hand was inside her panties. Oh gosh!

“Y—yeah,” Link stammered. What was he supposed to do?! Oh, God, why hadn’t he asked Rhett? He should’ve asked Rhett. He was always talking about how awesome fingering girls was. How warm and wet and yummy they felt. Link shivered. Betty didn’t feel yummy. She felt strange, foreign. Link had never touched a woman between their legs before and if he was completely honest, it wasn’t the amazing experience Rhett had always raved about. Nothing about the feel of her made Link want to stick his dick in there. Nevertheless, he moved his hand around, feeling for— What? What the hell was he feeling for? It’s not like there would be a buzzer sound when he hit the spot.

“I— I don’t— I mean, th—this is. I haven’t—” Link’s words came out all chopped up and Betty let go of his neck she’d basically been suction-cupped onto. Link rubbed his shoulder against the wet spot she’d left behind. 

“You okay?” Betty asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

Link’s head was spinning. Was this the rush of ecstasy Rhett was always talking about? It didn’t feel nice if it was. 

“Link?” Betty’s voice sounded like it was coming from far away. Link pulled his hand away, swiping the sticky wetness into the sheets. He felt queasy. The world was tilting as if they were inside a ship. Even the edges of his vision seemed blurry.

“I don’t… feel so g—”

———

“And then, you’ll never believe this. He fainted!” Rhett exclaimed, slapping Link’s back as the group around them burst into tittering laughs. Link hid his face into his palms.

“Noooo, why do you always have to tell that story?” he groaned behind his hide-out. “It’s so freaking embarrassing.”

Rhett laughed too, pulling Link into his arms and kissing the top of his head.

“Come on, babe. It’s a great story. Poor Betty. She thought you’d dropped dead. She came to our dorm room in hysterics.”

“Rhett, please,” Link whined, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. Poor Betty indeed. 

“What happened next?” a guest asked as Rhett got up to pour more wine for everyone.

“Well, I followed Betty into her room. Found a half-dressed Link knocked out cold on her bed. And—”

“And then I woke up. End of story!” Link interrupted, getting up. “Anyone want more dessert?”

A barrage of pleas to finish the story properly forced Link to sit back down. He sighed. Rhett walked behind Link’s chair and topped of his wine glass before continuing.

“And then he _did_ wake up. Right when I was leaning over to see if he was breathing. You see these baby blue eyes? So gorgeous, even back then. He looked at me with those, his face all pale and stricken and said: I don’t think I like girls.”

Link laughed and shook his head. Rhett ducked down and wrapped his arms around Link’s chest, nuzzling his nose behind Link’s ear.

“And I said some bullshit like you just fainted, you’re just confused. And this beautiful, amazing man laughed at me. Can you believe it? He laughed and said, no, actually I _was_ confused, now I’m just gay.”

Whistles and cheers came from the rapt audience, there were even a couple of awws. Link huffed out a laugh and turned his head to kiss Rhett on the lips. It was a small kiss, soft and sweet, but even after all these years, it still had the power to make Link’s stomach tighten with heat and need.

“You always tell _my_ coming out story. Why never yours?” he asked Rhett softly.

“Mine’s just so boring and predictable.”

“Come on, tell us!” another guest pleaded. Rhett waved his hand dismissively but acquiesced. 

“I had to watch Link go on a couple of dates with this brawny football dude before I realized that the squirming in my stomach wasn’t a pervasive food poisoning. I was just in love with my best friend. And jealous as hell.”

“And the rest is history,” Link said, pulling Rhett into another kiss. 


	28. Manbun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: never met before AU, college AU, brief mention of drug use, light angst, happy ending
> 
> Note: Aspen is Rhett, he's just changed his name because this version of Rhett definitely would...

From the first moment Link laid eyes on his college roommate he hated the guy with a fiery passion. Everything about Aspen— _who the hell named their child Aspen?!_ —made Link either roll his eyes or brought his blood to a simmering boil.

Link considered himself a modern man. He’d grown up in the South, yes, but he was educated and open-minded. Even though someone might consider him a bit high-strung, he’d had a nice, little group of friends in high school and had even moved to L.A. to pursue a degree in film studies. Not an intolerant red-neck hick by anyone’s standards. But Aspen was way more than he could handle. 

It was clear from the beginning, that they were different. The other side of the room was filled with all kinds of new-age stuff—crystals, amulets, dream catchers, and psychedelic tapestries. The first night they shared the room, Aspen lit a wooden stick that made the whole room smell like something that to Link was a gag-inducing mix of old socks and something sickly sweet. When Link politely asked him to put it out, his roommate refused on the grounds that he needed to “purify” the room from the energies of the previous residents. After a heated argument, Link spent his first night as a college student on the common room couch. 

Their shared existence got even worse from then on. Link had no idea what Aspen was studying since it seemed that he didn’t own any textbooks. He was practically always in their room. Link asked him once whether he attended any lectures and was accosted with a half-an-hour monologue about the beauty of independent study and self-discovery and college being first and foremost a social experience. And Aspen was definitely social; he had a group of like-minded friends he had over almost every night. They listened to music—not that Link would call it music; it was more like chest-pounding beats and incomprehensible mumbling and chants—and more often than not, got high. After a couple of what Aspen called “ _bursts of negative energy he could help Link get rid of if Link let just him cleanse his heart chakra_ ”, Link invested into a nice pair of noise-canceling headphones and tried to spend most of his nights in the library or in a cafe. 

The worst part, by a long shot, was how Aspen looked. He was impossibly tall, a head taller than Link and Link wasn’t exactly a pip-squeak himself. He had bushy eyebrows and mossy-green eyes that always looked at Link with rage-inducing amusement. His long, curly hair was usually pulled on top of his head into a man bun, and he was clearly trying to grow a beard—with not that much success. And his wardrobe? When he left the room he wore tie-dyed shirts and weird loose pants made of colorful, shiny fabrics. He wrapped multiple scarfs around his neck, explaining something about color energies and mood-altering fabrics. His wrists were heavy with bands and woven bracelets and one of his ears was pierced in three places. Inside their room, he opted for something more low-key. When he didn’t parade around the room naked—those were the worst days for poor Link—he wore tight, black boxer briefs and extra-large t-shirts he’d “customized” by ripping them so that they barely covered anything. 

Everything about Aspen made Link uncomfortable. And he thought that things couldn’t get any worse. Until the day when he got back to the dorm from a sit-down with a professor about the essay he’d written. 

Link burst into the room, threw his bag on the floor and himself on his bed, burrowing his head under his pillow. For once, Aspen was alone in the room even though it was a Friday night. 

“I’m sensing a lot of negative energy radiating from you, Charles,” Aspen noted after a couple of minutes. Link groaned.

“Leave me alone,” he mumbled, without moving the pillow.

“I simply can’t do that. You know how susceptible I am to other people’s moods.”

Link’s disappointment and embarrassment morphed into anger—an easy switch when in presence of his nut-job roommate. 

“You know what?!” Link snapped, throwing the pillow on the floor and sitting up. “I am not responsible for your feelings! I can be upset. I can feel whatever the fuck I want to feel and it’s not my job to manage my moods to your benefit!”

Aspen rose slowly from his own bed. 

“I simply meant—” he started.

“ _I simply meant._ ” Link repeated in a mocking voice. “I know what you simply meant. _Relax, Charles. Take a breath, Charles. Have a pot brownie, Charles, live a little!_ ”

Now he was up, standing in the middle of their small room, yelling. “I don’t need to relax! I feel just _fucking fine_. _You_ need to get a grip! You just lounge here all day long with your buddies and _alter your mind_ as if nothing you do has consequences. And you think, _I_ have to reel in _my_ negative feelings so that _you’re_ not inconvenienced?!”

Aspen’s eyes grew wider and wider as Link spewed out every thought that had plagued him ever since they started college.

“I’ve had enough of this shit! I am _a good_ person! You look at me like I’m the freak! But I am a normal, goddamn person. I am respectful and punctual and dutiful and kind. And I am more than devoted to my studies! I am a fucking model student for Christ’s sake! And he said I have _no soul_!”

Link drew in a ragged breath and stared at Aspen in horror. He hadn’t actually meant to say that last bit.

“What?” Aspen asked hesitantly. Link’s head dropped between his shoulders and he slammed his palms over his eyes, trying desperately to push back the tears that threatened to overflow.

“H-he said— Professor McIntyre s-said my essay had no soul. That I sounded like a textbook. That I was boring and robotic. But I-I’ve— _Fuck!”_ There was no stopping the tears anymore. A pathetic, whimpering sob wracked Link’s body and he almost felt nauseous from the embarrassment.

“Hey,” Aspen’s low voice said from much closer than Link had anticipated. Long, surprisingly strong arms wrapped around Link and guided his pliant, trembling body to sit on the bed. Link couldn’t help himself. Aspen was _so warm_. So big and solid. Link curled up in his arms, wrapping himself around him and cried his frustration into his ripped t-shirt. Aspen pet his hair slowly for a little while. Then he slipped his finger under Link’s chin and lifted it so he could look right into Link’s teary eyes.

“I don’t think you’re boring. Far from it. I think you’re fascinating. I think you’re smart and funny—in a kind of sarcastic way. I do think you are a bit reserved, but that’s fine. Not everyone has to be the life of the party. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

Link stared at him, stared at the kind and earnest eyes and something shifted inside him. Without thinking about it, he reached up and pressed his lips softly against Aspen’s. After a moment of pure terror, thinking that he was about to be rejected, Link felt Aspen’s mouth open slightly in invitation. Link’s tongue slipped past his own lips, tasting Aspen’s berry lip balm before meeting his tongue with a sweeping brush. There was a low moan. Link wasn’t sure which one of them had made it, but he didn’t care. His hand rose to Aspen’s hair, pulling off the hair-band that was holding his bun together. Aspen’s hair billowed around his face and Link threaded his fingers into it, tugging him closer.

“Can’t deal with this goddamn bun of yours,” he whispered breathlessly against Aspen’s lips. “It’s been driving me insane ever since we met.”

“I’ll cut it off if it means I get to keep kissing you,” Aspen answered, voice just as affected, his palm sneaking under Link’s shirt and palming his bare back.

“Please, don’t,” Link muttered, before diving into another kiss, this one more heated.


	29. Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: unhappy ending, Link's wedding, pining, possibly hinted cheating (up to the reader to interpret)

Rhett managed to keep it together all day and night—all the way up to the dance. 

Waking up next to Link in the hotel room might have been tough, but Link had already gotten up before him, so it wasn’t an issue. Rhett ignored the mingling of their scents in the crumbled-up sheets and took a scalding hot shower. 

Getting dressed together and seeing Link in his formal wear might have made someone else feel emotional, but Link always looked terrific, an ill-fitting suit didn’t change that. They had trouble with their ties, tying and untying them again and again, fingers slipping as they got lost in each other’s eyes. 

Driving him to the venue and blasting Merle could have conjured bittersweet memories from their youth, but surprisingly, it felt good—familiar and normal—as if they were on a random Saturday morning drive and not headed to Link’s wedding. 

And standing next to him at the altar? Well, that had merely been an excellent opportunity to appreciate the beautiful stained-glass windows of the church. 

Watching his family and friends congratulate them at the reception. It’s just a party. Watching them cut the cake. It’s just a party. Speeches. A perfect time for a bathroom break. 

But then came the dance. Link’s arms wrapped around her as they stared at each other with conspiratory smiles. The way Link’s thumb softly rubbed her back. The way she followed his lead, tentative but willing, her dress swaying with every step they took together. The way Link laughed at something she said, whipping his head back. Even all of that, Rhett could have dealt with. Yes, it hurt. It hurt like a son-of-bitch, but he was a big man; there were many dark places within him to bury that hurt.

But then Link looked at him. Their eyes met across the room, drawn together like magnets—just like that one fated night when they were both kissing a girl, but all they saw were each other. 

Link’s eyes shone in the soft light of the venue, and Rhett knew without a shadow of a doubt that the tear he saw Link shed was not born out of happiness. 

Did you know that sometimes you can hear when a heart breaks? It’s a small sound—a whimper, a gasp, a sigh—the perfect antithesis to the magnitude of the moment.

Link wasn’t his anymore. Had never been, really, but now it was written in ink, notarized and until death does them apart. 

The look between the two men stretched into infinity. Everything around them—the people, the music, the chatter, the lights, the decor—melted away, and for that moment in time, it was just them, Rhett and Link, two boys who loved each other more than words can say. 

When their eye contact finally broke, the sounds of the party came back to Rhett, like air rushing into a vacuum. He felt like pressing his palms over his ears, oversensitive, breathless, and ripped apart.

The song went on, as did the dance and eventually rest of the reception, but Rhett could no longer look. Instead, he spent the rest of the night staring at nothing, carefully crafted smile on his face as he tried to gather at least a couple of the pieces of his broken heart.


	30. "I can't sleep. Can I stay." Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations again to @enterthetadpole for winning the 200 follower giveaway! She requested that I expand the “I can’t sleep. Can I stay here?” angsty ficlet:
> 
> "This ficlet had me literally screaming at my laptop screen like a mad woman because how dare Appa leave it on such a cliffhanger! So much gorgeous build up and then the curtain closes. My poor heart needs more please!"
> 
> Tags: just before college!rhink, internalized homophobia, mild religious guilt, implied smut

When Rhett came back to his room from the bathroom, Link was sprawled on the bed, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Rhett’s stomach flipped at the sight of the familiar lean figure. 

Link was wearing nothing but his boxers. His shorts and t-shirt were thrown over the back of Rhett’s desk chair and his abs were already glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. The heat-slicked skin was a teasing reminder of all the times Rhett had imagined Link in his bed. He felt his cheeks flush and had to fight the desire to turn and run out of the room.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Link like that a hundred times before. Seen him naked even. But never in _his_ bed. Never after a fight that still hung heavy in the air between them. Never after realizing how much losing him would hurt.

“Should I get the guest mattress?” Rhett asked, his voice breaking embarrassingly. His faked cough didn’t move Link’s gaze from the ceiling. He merely shifted a bit, making room for Rhett on the bed.

“Nah. No need to wake your parents. We’ll share.” Just like that. Link said it like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like Rhett’s bed wasn’t barely big enough for Rhett on his own. He shuffled from one foot to another, trying to figure out a way to either talk Link away from his bed or to will his rousing cock to go back to sleep. 

“You sure? I bet I could get it without—”

“Come to bed, Rhett.” Link’s voice was low and commanding, and it made Rhett’s insides liquefy instantly. The heat gathering in his belly rivaled the heat of the summer night and there was no longer even the slightest possibility of getting his body to ignore Link’s presence. 

And Link’s words… Why did Link’s words sound like a promise?

Link finally turned to look at him. He lifted a brow in silent question. _You coming or not_ , it said as plain as day and Rhett had to force himself to move.

“Yeah, sure,” he mumbled and laid down on the bed, his heart hammering so loudly that he was sure Link could hear it.

There wasn’t enough room. Their heated bodies immediately stuck together, from shoulder to hip and from hip to knee. 

“We’re not gonna fit,” Rhett croaked, closing his eyes tightly—as if not seeing Link could ease his mounting panic over the fact that _he didn’t want to fit_. He wanted to turn and pull Link into his arms and bury his nose into the crook of his neck and beg him not to leave ever again.

“We’ve fit before,” Link countered. 

“Yeah, when we were little,” Rhett huffed, squirming in place. Link’s side unstuck from Rhett’s arm and for one merciful second, Rhett thought he’d been saved, but then Link’s arm snaked over Rhett’s stomach and Link’s knee climbed up to rest on Rhett’s thigh.

“Better?” Link’s quiet voice asked way too close to Rhett’s ear.

Two sides of Rhett were warring inside of him. There was one that had been taught that this kind of touching was inappropriate. That it was immodest. Abominable. That side was the old and solid one, born and bred in the Bible Belt, fed by his parents and the community that had raised him. You’d imagine that side would automatically win, but no.

The other side was wild and delicate. That side knew, in the heart of its heart, that touching Link could never be wrong. That having Link in his bed, in his life, in the blood that coursed through his veins and plumped up his cock and made his heart sing for _more-more-more_ , was everything he could ever need. And somewhere along the way, that side had already guaranteed its victory. It wasn’t fragile anymore; it was the bedrock of Rhett’s being.

Rhett turned hesitantly, slipping his arm around Link’s slim waist, pushing his knee between Link’s legs, bringing his forehead to rest against Link’s. They both sighed at the same time and the air pushing out from their lungs relaxed them both into the embrace that had been years in the making.

“Better,” Rhett muttered, brushing his nose against Link’s. Link repeated the gesture, tilting his head ever-so-slightly—an invitation. The beat of Rhett’s heart was loud in his ears, but his need to feel more of Link was even louder.

Lips brushing against lips, barely a touch. A gasping breath. A pause. The whole world pausing as two boys wrapped their minds around what had just happened.

Rhett opened his eyes and stared right into the mesmerizing blue of Link’s gaze.

“I won’t go,” Rhett said, words tumbling out of him in a rush. “I’d never leav—”

“Don’t go,” Link pleaded at the same time. “Never leave m— ”

Widening eyes. The beginning of a smile snuffed out by lips crashing together. Moans swallowed by eager tongues. 

Wandering hands. Trembling fingers. Touching. So much touching, but never enough. A plea for more. Shared desperation to be closer. Not enough. Closer still. Within each other. 

Slick, heated bodies moving in sync. Promises written without pen or paper. Words of love spoken without language. 

A pact. A vow. An oath renewed. 

“Rhett,” Link murmured hours later when the morning light already tickled at their entangled feet. Rhett roused from the edge of sleep and hummed a quiet “yeah?”

“Run away with me.”

Rhett’s eyes fluttered open and in a flash of images, that he later would claim to be a prophecy, he saw their future ahead of them. There was only one answer.

_Yes._


	31. Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: angst with a happy ending, memory loss, mention of a car accident

The door of the little room opened and a bespectacled man stepped in. Rhett had been lying on his bed, leafing through a book he couldn’t actually concentrate on. When he heard the door, his heart skipped a beat and his head snapped up to greet his favorite guest.

Link stepped in warily. He still did that, despite it being weeks since Rhett had gotten over the first hurdle and started to make new memories.

“Hey, buddy,” Link said, inching into the room. “How are you feeling today?”

Rhett threw the book on his nightstand and sat up. “I’m good. You?”

“Great, great. I, um… I bought you something.” Link was fiddling with a paper bag, looking nervous. Rhett tried to school his face into a welcoming smile. The hurt that so clearly plagued Link seeped through his smiling features. The smile was fake, a mask Link had trouble keeping on. 

The pain of the blue-eyed man was a constant in Rhett’s blank existence, a reed of hope he’d clung onto after the accident. Not that he remembered the accident. He remembered hardly anything from before he woke up. He’d been told he’d slept for three months. There had been a car accident, someone ran a red, came out of nowhere.

“What is it?” Rhett asked, nodding for Link to come closer. Link walked up to the bed and sat gingerly at the foot of it. He handed Rhett the bag and for the briefest of moments, there was a genuine smile on his face.

“You used to love these.”

Rhett smiled back, a warmth filling his chest. He hoped he still did. He wanted to make Link happy. Wanted to see more of that genuine smile, wanted to see the rare twinkle in his eyes. 

But most of all, Rhett wanted to _remember_.

So far, there were only flashes. The feel of his mother’s hand on his forehead when he was sick as a child. The sound of gravel crunching under the tire of his bike. A song by Merle that made him feel sad and happy at the same time, but he didn’t know why. And the sound of moving water, a river. How the sun felt on his drying skin, making it tight around his growing limbs. A warm touch on his thigh. Laughter that _had_ to be Link. Rhett wasn’t actually sure; he couldn’t see a face in connection with the tingling laugh, but the way it made him feel was the same he felt every time Link walked into the room—warm and happy and at home.

Rhett worked hard on those little pieces of memories. He tried to see beyond the flashes. The doctors said there was a fifty-fifty chance. Either it would all come back or it wouldn’t. 

“This one year, on your birthday, we went to get those together,” Link said, pulling Rhett back to reality. “It was a good day.” Link’s voice is wistful and the pain was there—a constant undercurrent in everything he said to Rhett. It slashed at Rhett’s tender heart and made him imagine all sorts of strange things. Like pulling Link into his embrace and kissing his temple. Or snuggling with him under a heavy blanket, noses brushing together, whispering quietly. He wasn’t sure why he wanted those things. There was nothing that Link had said that suggested that they were anything more than friends.

Rhett opened the bag and pulled out a burger of sorts. “What is it?” he asked, turning it in his hands, hoping for a new flash.

“A McRib.”

There was a faint tickle at the back of Rhett’s mind, a taste of a memory or maybe the memory of a taste. He smiled at Link, but he was staring at the wall, lost in his memory. Rhett studied the profile of his supposed best friend and wished he could climb inside his head and see what he was seeing.

“It’s really good,” Rhett mumbled, mouth filled with beef and bun. Link jerked and turned to look at him, eyes wide and hopeful.

“You remember?”

“Oh,” Rhett paused to swallow hard. “No, sorry, I meant it tastes good… now.”

Link’s expression fell only for a moment, but he gathered himself quickly and gave Rhett a friendly pat on the back. “We’ll get there, buddy.”

Rhett took another bite, praying that Link was right.

They sat like that, a good couple of feet between them, and talked for a while. Well, Link talked mostly. Rhett just listened. Link recounted random stories from their past. Some almost as old as they were, others so new they were still fresh in Link’s mind, barely corrupted by the telling and re-telling that morphed memories into legends. Rhett tried to soak up every word, hoping that if he got himself saturated enough, he would finally remember.

“Time for your physical therapy,” a nurse said from the doorway, interrupting a tale of a vacation gone wrong. Link jumped up and nodded to the older woman before turning towards Rhett, who rose much more slowly with the help of his walker.

“Okay, I’ll be back tomorrow,” Link said, coughing away the tremor that laced his voice. Rhett nodded and smiled, following Link to the door. At the last moment, Link turned, rushed around the walker, and wrapped his arms around Rhett’s waist. Rhett let out a small huff as the smaller—but still substantial—body slammed against him. Carefully, he let go of his walking aid and wrapped his arms around Link’s slim figure. Link pressed his face into Rhett’s chest and shuddered.

Rhett’s chest tightened. Link hadn’t cried in front of him in weeks. They stood like that for a while, the nurse waiting patiently at a respectful distance. Rhett’s palm stroked calming circles into Link’s trembling back.

“I’m trying. I know I’ll be back to normal soon. I promise. I promise, bo,” Rhett murmured against the top of Link’s head. The man in his arms froze mid-sob and Rhett turned to look down, meeting a pair of crystalline-blue eyes. Link’s lips were pulled into a bewildered smile.

“What?” Rhett asked.

“You— you called me ‘bo’.”

Rhett’s mind rewound, stopping at the word that had slipped through the cracks of the barrier in his mind. 

“ _Bo_ ,” he repeated.

“Bo,” Link encouraged, smiling still, smiling that genuine smile that made Rhett feel tingly and alive.

And that’s when… Rhett finally started to remember.


	32. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: mild angst with a happy ending

Rhett was leaning his cheek against his palm, staring at the clock. He’d stop seeing it some time ago, but his eyes refused to move away from the round clock face. The pointer ticked on, spelling out his gut-wrenching disappointment with every second that _he_ wasn’t there. Rhett’s other arm moved listlessly, twirling his fork in the pile of cooled and congealed pasta. 

_I actually cooked him dinner. I’m pathetic._

A sudden gust of humid, sweet-smelling air tousled Rhett’s hair, dropping a few curls on his forehead. He wrenched his gaze from the clock and looked outside. He’d pulled open the patio doors while cooking. It had been another sweltering day, but the air had been heavy with a promise of rain. A superstitious part of him had hoped that opening the doors would summon a much-needed downpour. 

_How dare he? How dare he do this to me again?_

It had indeed started raining, a soft drizzle that barely made a sound, far from the torrent he’d wished for. Still, it was a rare and welcome sight after the weeks of scorching heat they’d had. The sunken feeling inside his chest grew with each breath and even the fresh night air couldn’t make him feel better. 

_It’s your own fucking fault. For believing him. For trusting him. For forgiving him over and over again._

The fork dropped against the plate with a jarring clang and Rhett got up, pushing the chair back with more force than he’d meant. It slid backward and hit the bureau behind it with a loud clatter, almost falling over. He grabbed it at the last second and with trembling hands, shoved it under the table. The anger that replaced the sadness was sudden and made him feel almost violently ill. 

_Why do you do this to yourself? You should know better!_

Rhett snatched his plate and the one he’d meticulously set across the table. The neatly folded napkin beside the plate drifted on the floor as he whipped around. He stomped into the kitchen and slammed the plates into the sink, cringing as one of them shattered to pieces, sending the food flying all over. He ignored the itch in his fingers to clean up the mess and went back to the dining room to clear the table. Soon, all the dishes were in the kitchen, one of the napkins forgotten below the table and the other crumbled up into a ball and stuffed inside his jeans pocket. He blew out the candles that were almost burned out anyway and topped up his wine glass. 

_Did you honestly think this time would be different? That he’d really changed?_

He emptied his glass in one go, filling it again, choosing to ignore the blooming red rosettes the spilled-over wine painted on the crisp-white table cloth. The anger that had fueled the clean-up was dissipating fast and he drank a big gulp, chasing the burn that had a moment ago filled the hole in his chest. He meandered out onto the patio, stared into the cloudy horizon and sipped his wine.

_He didn’t even text this time. Maybe something happened to him. Maybe he was on his way and…_

He huffed at himself, turned on his heels, and marched back inside. The patio doors clicked closed behind him, trapping the fresh smell of rain outside and the heavy air of despair inside. He left his wine glass on the counter and tried not to look at the mess he’d made. Bed called him—cool, clean sheets and heavy blankets to burrow under. He’d sleep and tomorrow… tomorrow he’d start to get over _him_.

—

Rhett woke up in the middle of the night, the glowing numbers of the bedside clock telling him it was well past 3 am. Someone was knocking on the front door. Annoyance flashed through him as every other middle-of-the-night booty call flashed through his mind. 

_Not this time, asshole._

He didn’t bother with clothes, instead, he stomped down the hallway, wearing only his boxer briefs. He’d tell the man to fuck off for good and he’d do it while showing him what he’d be missing. The knock sounded again and as Rhett yanked the door open he realized it wasn’t the usual confident rhythm—it was timid and careful.

Crystal-blue eyes peered up at him. Salt-and-pepper hair messy as if the man was fresh off a heated roll-around between sheets.

“Oh!” Rhett gasped. The man smiled hesitantly.

“I’m so sorry to wake you. I didn’t know what to do. I—” the man shuffled his feet—his bare feet, Rhett noticed. He was wearing well-worn pajama pants and nothing else. His chest was broad and defined, his arms toned and smooth. The pants hung low on his narrow hips and Rhett’s stomach swooped at the thought of wrapping his arms around him.

“I heard something outside and I— Jesus, I’m that one idiot in all the horror movies that investigates alone and gets himself killed, aren’t I? I mean Iit was just a couple of raccoons but I—”

“Oh, yeah. Bonnie and Clyde,” Rhett interrupted as the realization hit him. The man must be his new neighbor. His interjection made the corner of the man’s mouth tug up.

“Bonnie and Clyde?”

“Yeah,” Rhett said with an awkward laugh. “I kinda named them. Stupid.”

“I think it’s cute,” the man said, his smile widening to a full-on grin that threatened to sweep Rhett off his feet.

You’re _cute. Cute enough to eat._

“Anyway. I locked myself out. Could I borrow your phone to call a locksmith?” 

“Sure. Come on in,” Rhett said and stepped back to make room for the man.

“Thank you. Again, I’m so sorry. I’m Link by the way.”

“Rhett.”

They stood in Rhett’s foyer, almost chest to chest, and stared at each other, soft smiles dancing on their lips.

“Nice to meet you, Rhett,” Link said, voice low and raspy, his gaze flicking down Rhett’s bare chest. Rhett swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat.

“Wine? While you wait?” he offered, not even attempting to hide how Link’s gaze affected him.

“And a snack, maybe?” Link said, biting his lip as his gaze settled on the tenting between Rhett’s legs.

_Hell yeah._


	33. "I’m never letting you go"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a kind of a continuation/further exploration of [this drabble](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/apparentlynotreallyfinnish/614586439712342016) I wrote for @mythical-ross some time ago. Maybe check that out before reading this since I’m not exactly sure how to tag this.
> 
> This is basically tentacle p*rn. There. I said it. Apparently, this is what happens when I don’t write fic for a couple of months. 🙈 
> 
> And if you’re very sensitive to even a hint of dub-con, this might not be for you. Link goes willingly and is a willing participant in all of this, but I guess it could be due to some magical enticement or drugs. This is not written to specifically be a dub-con story, but just in case you’ll read it that way, you’ve been warned.

There had been a man. Link was sure of it. Or had been sure of it. It was hard to think now. Hard to be sure of anything else except the vines tightening around his limbs, pressing him into the forest floor. Much earlier, when Link had stepped into the forbidden grove he might have seen a tall figure across the small clearing. Strangely, Link wasn’t afraid. It almost felt like he’d met the man before. His moss-green eyes flashed with mischief and he smiled at Link before disappearing further into the thicket. What else could Link have done but follow him?

_So soft. So squirmy. So… enticing._

Link shivered and gasped as one lone tendril slipped under his shirt and slithered up his stomach, its touch almost like a lover’s caress. The incorporeal voice reverberated inside Link’s head. It wasn’t made up by his mind, Link knew that, but there was no one around to claim the voice as their own. No one except the vines. But vines couldn’t talk. The muddled thought made Link guffaw out a confused laughter.

_Does it like that? Does the sweet human enjoy our touch? Silly, little thing. We haven’t even begun…_

Link tried to open his eyes, but only managed a peek of the sun glinting through the foliage before his lids grew impossibly heavy. He felt good, though—light and… happy. He was glad he came. He was glad he’d followed the man.

Link groaned when the thin, exploring vine wrapped around his pert nipple and squeezed hard. He bucked and squirmed, even though he was barely able to move in the tight embrace of the vines. The steady pulse around his limbs started to feel overwhelming. Almost like it was he who was throbbing. He was throbbing, he realized with a start. His swollen cock was straining against the fastenings of his pants. The desire to be touched there gripped Link. He whined low and needy, the sound wholly foreign even to himself.

_It likes us. Lovely, soft human. We like it too._

Another vine crawled up Link’s arm, tightening around his bicep as if to test its circumference before climbing along Link’s throat. It tickled the edge of Link’s mouth and pulled on Link’s bottom lip, opening his mouth for another approaching tendril. This one was thicker, more blunt and Link’s cheeks grew hot, embarrassment flushing through him as he couldn’t resist sucking softly on the vine thrusting into his mouth. 

_Yessss… Taste us, human. Put that pretty mouth to work._

Link screwed his eyes closed tighter and lapped at the intrusion. His saliva made the coarse surface slick and wet and as the vine pulsed against the back of his throat, a sweet taste filled Link’s mouth. Link moaned and swallowed, the taste morphing from a freshly baked honeybuns to his favorite sweetberry tart.

A warm breeze on his throbbing erection clued Link on the fact that somehow, his pants had been shredded apart, pieces of fabric still tickling at his thighs. Instinctively, he tried to move his arm, tried to reach for his cock to stroke it, to ease the frustrating need for release.

The smaller vine that had been caressing Link’s cheeks while his mouth was taken joined its brother, twisting around the thicker vine as it kept thrusting into Link’s eager mouth. Link’s jaw ached, stretched to its limits, but soon the newcomer receded and found its way down Link’s chest, leaving behind a slick path. 

Link sputtered and gasped around the thickness in his mouth when his cock was enveloped in a tight, wet spiral of pulsing vine. A mix of his spit and the thick, sweet residue the vine produced dripped from the corner of Link’s mouth, drenching his chin and dripping down his neck. Link groaned with pleasure as the vine tightened around his erection, drenching him completely in its slick. Link shifted his hips, desperate to fuck into the most glorious hole he’d ever come across in his short life. But the thicker vines around his limbs and waist kept him securely on the ground and Link squirmed, his fast, shallow breaths turning into frantic whimpers. 

_Hush, sweet, little thing. Our soft human. We know what it needs._

The vines moved then, all in tandem; the bigger ones pulsing and squirming, the smallest one twisting around Link’s cock faster and faster until it felt like he was being fucked. The sound of slippery movement filled the grove and Link panted around the thick, blunt vine still rubbing itself against Link’s tongue and the insides of his cheeks, filling his mouth with its sweet-tasting slick.

_Oh. Oh! So soft. So pliable. We need it. Give us your seed. Give it to us._

The pleasure was all-encompassing, almost too much. Every cell in Link’s body shimmered and sang. He was dizzy and sweaty, and he no longer knew if it was him moving, or if he was being moved. There were no longer him and the vines. There was them. _Us_. And they were together and they were on the edge of something more. Link reached for it in his mind, grasped for something intangible and right when he was sure he was about to find it, he cried out as the tightening pressure in his balls reached its peak and he came harder than ever before, coating the vine wrapped around his pulsing cock with pearly-white, fat streaks of cum. 

_Mmmm, yes, little one. Such a good boy. So pretty when it comes._

Link’s body convulsed as wave after wave of pleasure rushed through him, the vine pumping him gently, as more cum poured from his slit. When Link finally opened his eyes, still shivering in the aftermath of his release, the man he’d seen before was sitting at his feet. 

At closer inspection, the man wasn’t a man at all. His skin was a lighter shade of the green of his eyes that now twinkled with otherworldly mirth. His limbs were abnormally long, his proportions a bit wrong somehow. Despite all of this, he was beautiful, magnificent even. Link watched in awe as the last of the vines keeping him in place unfurled from his softening cock and receded towards the creature. 

“ _Thank you,_ ” it said, slowly licking the vine clean of Link’s release. It should have surprised Link to see the vine morph into long fingers, but somehow he’d already known that the vines and the creature were the same. The creature closed its eyes and let out a pleased hum as it sucked on each of its fingers. When it opened its eyes it looked at Link and with a smile said, “ _I’m glad you decided to come_.”

Link nodded, feeling dazed. He was glad too. 

That night he fell asleep in the grove, naked and satisfied, in the tight embrace of a creature whose heart beat in the same rhythm as his. And just when sleep was about to take him, he heard a voice in his head whisper: “ _I’m never letting you go_.”


	34. Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: pining, mutual masturbation

Rhett loves Link’s hands.

Rhett loves to watch Link’s hands move when he talks. They have a mind of their own. Sometimes they flail about, sometimes they only shift slightly. Link moves like the water in a stream--predictable and unpredictable at the same time.

Rhett loves to watch Link’s hands when he tries to figure out how to use something new to him, a machine or a silly toy from Amazon that’s been set in front of them for another filming session. Link pokes and prods and smooths his palms over the thing in front of him. Rhett is fascinated by the way Link’s hands explore the world. It’s like he’s enticing the inanimate object to life. At least, something in Rhett comes to life. 

Rhett loves to watch Link write on his laptop. Most of the time, Link’s fingers race on the keyboard with purpose and drive. He’s the boss. He knows what he wants and what the company needs, and his fingers are the vehicle to have his meticulously thought out desires met. Sometimes, Link’s fingers dawdle on the keys. They circle around the sleek surface almost absentmindedly and more than once, Rhett’s caught himself staring at their slow movement, imagining them elsewhere, imagining them on his skin.

Rhett loves to watch Link fix his hair. Link’s fingers threading through the salt-and-pepper coif, messing it up just the way he likes it. Sometimes, Rhett imagines Link in the mornings, sleep still pressing down his lids, hands on his pillow-mussed bed-head. There would be no need to look good for anyone, not for the cameras or the crew, not for the Starbucks barista at the service window. Rhett imagines Link in the mornings a lot. More than he’s willing to admit.

Rhett loves Link’s hands.

Especially, he loves them when Link’s fingers are wrapped around Rhett’s throbbing cock. 

They never look at each other when it happens. Why would they? It’s not like that. It’s not a sex act. Not really. It’s… a release. It’s a helping hand. It’s a friendly favor.

They never talk about it either. It’s almost like it happens in an alternative reality. The world shifts a bit when their bare thighs press together on the couch and their earbuds are filled with soft moans and groans from the video playing on the laptop in front of them. If you asked Rhett later what happened in it, he couldn’t tell you. All he sees is Link’s hand.

Link touches Rhett like he touches himself—firm and playful. He keeps changing his grip and occasionally, sweeps his thumb over the slickened head of Rhett’s cock, spreading the pre-cum down his shaft with languid strokes. 

In the end, when Rhett no longer can hold back the inevitable, it’s almost like Link wants to get his hand dirty. He moves it just so that Rhett’s cum drips over his knuckles or pools in his palm. Sometimes, in the throes of his orgasm Rhett is certain that Link wants more, wants to swallow his release, wants to own it, _own him_.

But then it’s over. Link’s zipping up his jeans, decidedly not looking at Rhett. No words are exchanged. Why would they acknowledge it? They’re basically the same person, so it’s kind of like masturbating. Right? 

Rhett tucks himself away, closes the video, and scrubs the browsing history. They get back to work. 

And again, Rhett stares at Link’s hands as he types on his laptop.

And he waits for the next time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final RTW ficlet from me. Due to sucky personal stuff, I had to abandon the project.


End file.
